Those eyes. Alluring, yet, poignantly expectant. Gazing. Staring. Inquisitively into the horizon. Awaiting. Beckoning to and inviting a rescue. Slaying. Even seducing with stuttering blinks, the heart of the one.
Those eyebrows. Lashing. Luscious. Streamlined. Slanting. Hiding. Open. Flowing. Retreating
They invite a stroke or two and meander off into the 12th of never. They rise and fall, yet, steadfast. In your face.
Daring a comb. Boldly dark and teasing a brush.
Those lips. Missing a kiss or two. Had a few. Demur in expression. Ajar but shy. Wanting yet, rejecting. Secrets of sorts and hoping against hope for the exchange of, and with, another.
And the taste of succulence beneath the breath of a new lover.
That torso…oh sooo aquiline. Daring. Jarring. Ready. Consuming. Suggestive of pleasures untold and imaginations hedonist. On display but clothed. Sealed but to the serious. Hermetic Displays. Seductive silhouette.
Enveloped in subtlety and drenched in tingles.
That torso…oozing with pent-up pleasures. Lying like a coiled spring. Ready the chalice and entwined in warmth
The emblems of affection and bodily rituals. But, far from the mad-d-e-ning crowd and only in frozen teases.
The heart beneath all that. Beating to the rhythms of time. Awaiting the encircling of arms. Palpitating with each unspoken word.
The intellect that drives it all. Subduing the ever-effervescent heart. Astride the seen and unseen.
One step. Two steps and an almost whole-hearted withdrawal.
That brain that ticks. Pulsating, just above the enclosed twin chambers beneath. Connecting with the stranger afloat. Wondering. Wishing. Hoping. Fearing.
Dare you make the move? The horned bull awaits. Dare you?
Warm Hospitality, the refrain of your heart. Or is it a euphemism for distant adventures?
She ponders. She pauses. She cogitates. Yet, she knows, to her heart be true. But, O! what heart? What voice?
Truth be told, the future, unknown. Mr. Right, the echoes. O! the extant midnight mask attends you.
O brave new world, with such people in it