The Stories Behind Finley Robinson (Young Adult)

Six: Petals

Juliet

My tired eyes sit heavy on my face. I've been trying to sleep for hours, but my mind is racing. Finley's lips, his soft, full and handsome lips, felt so tender and sensual on my skin. His hands, large, warm, and strong, took control of my body like he was the sculptor molding my desires and satisfying them at the same time. His mouth took mine in a first kiss I will never, for the rest of my life, be able to forget. I've never felt such wanton desire followed by intense pleasure.

His actions, that were meant to squelch the fire in me, have created a much larger burn. A burn that wants more of him, wanting to feel him beneath, above, and inside me. I want to see his face while my body delivers back the pleasure he gave me.

The pads of my fingertips trace the place on my neck where he kissed me. The tingle left by his lips, is fresh. His scent lingers on my skin and I wish I could bottle it up, along with the memory of the entire experience.

I sit up in bed, turn on the light, and pull my journal out of my bag next to the bed. Opening to a blank page, I being to write. With a few words on the page, I find myself dreaming again. Desperately, I try to remember every touch.

Words aren't good enough and I don't want to think about the right words to give the memory life. What I want is to remember it in real time, with real feelings. My hand begins to move on its own, drawing.

A wiry metal flower, like one of the sculptures in Finley's apartment, is formed on the paper in front of me. As I recall the moment with him, I develop the story in my mind and it comes to life on paper. Every stem holds a feeling, every petal, holds his words.

You are a goddess, he said. My body shutters at the memory. I draw a small G midst the decorations on one of the petals.

Tonight is about your pleasure, not mine. His voice resounds inside my head, moving me. I hide another letter, P, inside another petal and I can nearly feel his hands moving over my skin.

I want to hear you moan for me. I draw a decorative M on another petal and hear myself moan at the memory of his breath against my ear.

When I look at the finished sketch, I know I will always be able to remember every touch, every breath, and every goose bump he placed on my body.

I switch off the light next to me and sink deep into the covers, taking one last whiff of his cologne left on my hands. Satisfaction fills my belly as I allow my brain to still and succumb to sleep.

*****

Music plays while I put the finishing touches on the cinnamon buns. I remember how much Finley liked them the first time I baked them. Although this is not the best way to thank him for everything he did for me last night, with the website and...other things, it is the best I can offer at the moment.

My normal appointment time to walk Lilly is in a bit, but it seems as if time has stopped. Tired of waiting for the last thirty minutes to pass, I head down to his place a little early. I'm bringing food, after all. I'm sure he won't mind.

My stomach swarms with excitement as I tap on his door and wait for an answer. After a few moments of silence, I use my key and let myself in. The smell hits me almost immediately. It's his smell; his masculine, sexy scent lines the air and fills my lungs.

Lilly comes running from across the room and starts circling my feet, grunting and whining to welcome me. "Hello, Lilly," I greet her trying not to trip over her plump little body.

The door to Finley's room is cracked open and I can hear the shower running. As I walk passed the living room something catches my attention from the corner of my eye. My body freezes. Slowly turning my head to the left, I stop and examine the items before me. A red purse and high-heeled, red, strappy shoes are lying next to the couch. A white blouse is strewn across the other end, obviously tossed aside in a romantic game.