When She Gets Burned

The Point of No Return

The city's neon glow seeped through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Ezra's condo, casting an orange hue on the minimalistic decor. Alani lay in his arms on the long grey sofa, a piece of furniture that seemed to mirror the simplicity of the man himself. Her eyes wandered around the room, taking in the clean lines and uncluttered spaces. There were no unnecessary ornaments, no sentimental trinkets that usually adorned a person's living space. It was a deliberate choice, one that left room for dreams and imagination to breathe.

"Why is there so little in this room?" Alani asked, her voice a soft melody against the hum of the city outside.

Ezra looked down at her, a half-smile playing on his lips. "It leaves room to dream," he replied, his eyes reflecting a depth that seemed to transcend the boundaries of the room.

She laughed, a sound that echoed in the quietude of the space. "I think it needs more decoration. I dream too much, you see. Don't write enough. Trying to find God everywhere, but I think I'm looking in all the wrong places."

Ezra's gaze lingered on her face; the lines of his features etched with a certain knowing. "God is in the spaces between the words, in the silence that lingers after the ink dries," he said, his words carrying a weight of wisdom.

He gently extricated himself from her embrace, his movements deliberate and unhurried. Alani watched as he moved to the kitchen, a space that seamlessly blended with the rest of the room. The scent of something savoury wafted through the air, a culinary creation in progress. She continued to explore the room, running her fingers over the smooth surfaces. The emptiness felt like a canvas awaiting the strokes of inspiration. A lone book sat on a small side table – a collection of poetry that seemed to defy the minimalist aesthetic.

Ezra returned, carrying a bowl of freshly made pasta. He set it down on the low coffee table, the simplicity of the meal mirroring the simplicity of the space. They sat there, two souls in a room where dreams mingled with reality. As they shared the meal, the silence between them became a language of its own. Words were unnecessary, and in that quiet communion, Alani felt a connection that transcended the physical realm. The city's nocturnal symphony outside became the backdrop to a conversation spoken in glances and shared smiles.

Ezra's eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint as he remembered the piece of himself that he wanted to share with Alani. She sat up, her eyes filled with anticipation, innocence painted across her features. It made him chuckle, a sound that echoed in the quiet of the room. He held her chin gently, his fingers tracing the contours of her face. "You're cute, you know that?" he teased, a warmth in his voice that matched the soft glow of the ambient light.

With a grin, he reached into his pocket and produced a crumpled piece of paper. Alani's eyes widened; her curiosity piqued. "For me?" she asked, her voice carrying a note of genuine surprise.

Ezra nodded; his eyes fixed on hers. "Read it aloud," he instructed, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

She unfolded the paper, the lines of Ezra's handwriting revealing a poem that carried the raw intensity of desire. Alani looked up at him, a mixture of surprise and delight on her face.

"I love to watch you touch yourself," she began, her voice carrying the weight of the words. The room seemed to hold its breath as she continued, each line a revelation of passion. "On rainy afternoons, the wandering hands, the soft little moans, hips twitching, wet fingers fucking, a solo show, performed for one." As the last words hung in the air, Alani glanced at Ezra, her eyes searching for his reaction. His grin widened, a subtle approval in his gaze. It was a moment suspended in time, the words becoming a bridge between them, a shared secret in the tapestry of their connection.