Submitted by megan on Sun, 03/09/2008 - 01:57
It's in her hand, her palm warm against mine as she leads me from the dance floor. That sparking energy. Flits her fingers up my waist, glancing the tender cup of my breast. Landing, just a second, enough so that my electricity gathers underneath, warmth meeting warmth. Breath to breath, her mouth, the delicious space behind her open lips.