I love the way her smoke hits the air, cascading into the sky like ink in water. Suspended in the air, it spreads with the wind and hits me hard. She's standing there, all 5'8 of her, her heels hit the ground with a sharp stab, opening and closing her mouth, sucking into her blunt softly. She sees me standing there, frozen in her splendor. Indifferent by my stare she tilts her head back, letting go of her smoke.
"How much?" I ask, struggling to gather my money with shaking hands. She lifts her hands, elegant long hands, spread out, five. "Five?" I asked.
"Fifty," she said. Her voice is sweet like honey. I want her to tell me more, I want to taste it. I hand her the money and for a second our fingers brush past each other. I can feel something there, something beautiful. Something perfect. She moves her hands to her coat pocket. It's tight to her body, and I can see the faint line of her breasts, the slant of her hips, the way her body twists and turns so delicately. She's a porcelain doll, I ask her name.
"Call me honey," she says, inspecting her nails.
I ask her, "but what's your name?" She laughs at herself and nods her head towards the door. My honey, my sweet dalliance. I follow willingly. She walks slowly, placing her feet delicately on the wooden steps. The stairway is narrow, I struggle to pay attention to the steps. She smells sweet, lavender, burnt candle, subtle leftovers of her smoke. They intoxicate my body in warmth. My head is full of her aura, swirling around my eyes and blinding me with heartache. I long for her to hold me, I long for her to touch me. I long to be enveloped by her smell. We reach the top of the staircase, an apartment building with endless hallways and the sound of men and woman filling the air. She opens the door, unlocked already. She smiles at me, a small smile, a careless smile. She takes my hand and moves me towards her bed. She leads me to sit down, never saying a thing, never looking in my eyes.
I try to gather myself, to bring myself to some sort of sanity. Her room is filled with candles, the bed is covered in a silk blanket. It's been set, planned, a prostitutes stage. A sense of sadness envelopes me, she will deprive me of the sense of importance I need. She will not love me, but desuetude me. I will be another client of hers, nothing but the money I pay her.
"Do you want music? Candles?" For a moment she looks shy, embarrassed, filling me with hope. She can be broken, she can love me. I nod at the candles, she starts a match with a practiced swipe. Moves around the room, lighting each candle. When she's finished she takes off her coat, revealing her satin black bra, the turn of strings along her hips.
"Hold me now. Kiss me."
"Not too soon," she whispers in my ear, her breath falling gently on my skin. Under this softly lit night, cover me in your love, hold me. The impatience surges through me violently, I want her to caress me. I want her smell to choke me, to fill me completely until I can never smell anything again. To intoxicate me.
She starts to kiss me slowly, planting her lips on my neck. She sucks on my rosy colored neck, my chocolate freckles, my lifted chin. Her hands slide to my sides, glide lower with her lips. Delicate. She holds me like china. I want her to break me like glass.
I want the smell of burnt out candles and sweet sweat to be the last thing I remember. I want to forget this night as we become something else, something beautiful. Something wonderful. She slides off my shirt, my pants. I struggle to elegantly take off my thong, eager to touch her skin to mine. She stops me, holds my hands to my sides, pushes me down on the bed, moves herself over me. Her breath becomes mine, her eyes are all I see. Hidden now by her long raven hair she kisses me slightly on the lips. I move mine into hers, open my mouth to taste her. I strain my head closer to hers, my neck aching to grow. I want to move her into me, I want to force her to love me but she holds onto my wrists tightly.
She's kissing my chin now, my collar bones, dragging her lips down to the top of my breasts. She leaves me breathless for satisfaction, desperate for her to devote every bit of energy she has to me. She has her arms, her legs, around me, but yet she weighs nothing more than a blanket. How can her skin be so smooth? How can she fit so nicely with the turn of my stomach, the sharp mountain of my hips?
"Can I let you go?" she asks me, losing her grip on my arms. I whisper yes, please, I want to touch her, I want every opportunity I have to feel her satin skin against mine. She lets go, moving her hands down my sides. Leisurely. As if the whole night is waiting for us, as if time has stopped she takes her movement too slowly for comfort. She strokes my nipples teasingly, like a feather. Like something too fragile to touch.
"Break me," I plead, moving myself in towards her, pressing my hands to her back and pulling her down on top of me. For a moment she's heavy and I try to make myself smaller. I sink my stomach in, move my arms above my head, stretch myself out as far as I can go. My legs twist around the arch of her thighs, I can feel her hips pressing into mine. Her flower just inches away from mine, separated by our vicious attire.
She pushes away from me, slaps me hard. The sting overflows my body, sets every nerve on fire. "I thought you said I could let go, I thought you would behave," she snarls. She gets up, puts on her coat again.
"Don't leave, I'm sorry." she laughs at me, like a child. Opens a drawer and pulls out a crumple of lace.
"Give me your arms." I do. She twists it around my wrists, pulls them closer to the headrest of the bed. I feel the cold metal against my fingertips. With one abrupt pull my wrists move together. She grabs another string of lace and separates my leg, stroking her finger down my knee to my ankle, tieing it to the bed. Another leg, fingers stroking, lace is pulling. Trapped.
Now she looks at me, her eyebrows raised and the corner of her mouth pulled up smugly. She strokes me face, lifts my chin up as if about it to kiss me and pushes my head away again. I use all my strength to get closer to her, bridging my back in an awkward u.
She moves down on me, takes her hands behind my back and clips off my bra, slides off my underwear. She enslaves me beneath her tongue, captures my breaths and fills my mouth with moans. Her mouth moves to my breast, tongue circling my nipples. She teases me, strokes my breasts than scratches, brushes me softly with her lips then bites.
My body is engulfed in heat, my flower longs for her water, dying of thirst.
"Down, go down," I beg of her. She moves her hand, her precious hand, and smacks my inner thigh, shushing me. But she moves farther down, slowly, her velvet sweetness moving closer. Closer. And now she's reached me, brings warmth to my silken pearl. Scratches her nails into my legs, pushing them apart. Tighter.
She moves faster now, my whole body inflamed. My arms pull on the lace, propelling me closer to this wonder. This beauty, this horrible satisfaction, faster and faster. Harder and harder. My vision brightens, fades to a thousand colors, explodes into nothing but beauty, the ceiling, the sky above, this world, I let out a scream of pleasure. My eyes roll to the back of my head, my mouth a large O. I feel every inch of her tongue now, every shuddering shake or pain. My precious flower is too drowned for her, too sensitive now.
She comes to a stop and moves up to me. Now looking in my eyes she smiles with that sugar-coated smile. The sweet smile that makes me want to never look away, that beautiful smile that tastes so perfect.
Like honey.
