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Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
I was dazed by the sight of your eyes meeting mine in the bedroom, on the rectangular screen that was embraced by white border hanging to the left of my workstation. We sat together on a black leather ottoman, that replaced a desk chair that previously occupied too much space in the cozy room.
By flyonthewallpublishings-us https://flyonthewallpubli...

you too.

by flyonthewallpublishings-us

I was dazed by the sight of your eyes meeting mine in the bedroom, on the rectangular screen that was embraced by white border hanging to the left of my workstation.

We sat together on a black leather ottoman, that replaced a desk chair that previously occupied too much space in the cozy room.

The room’s contents were dispersed precisely throughout the space in such a way, as if the lifeless pieces had come together to fulfill some sort of manifesto.

I had grown to become infatuated with a game I’d long ago invented, where I like to study reflection of those working diligently on tasks that appeared to be of substance and importance.

The placement of the mirror, adjacent to where we were seated had proven justice to it’s arrangement.

She peered deep into my eyes, I glared back, daring her to reveal once more the secrets she’d shared moments ago.  Due to the nature of my request, she became enthralled with anxiety.

Under the assumption that I was behaving the way she wanted, I realized that I’d read the signals all wrong.

We’d both seen one another free of garments many times before, so I could not understand the rapid change in behavior.

Her lips possessed the natural tint of soft pink, they pursed together and intertwined with aligning quinted eyes, casted a stare of uncertainty and despection.

In a swift motion, her neck decided to drag the head along, sweeping her face free of my gaze in the reflection.

She ducked over into classic travel-size notebook, and start to  what hinted to be frivolous scribble.

A few quick strokes in a short cadence, she maneuvered the pencil across the paper as if it were an extended mutation of her body.

Pausing a moment, she beamed a smile of curiosity back in my direction and protested.“You know.

You have always been pretty damn gorgeous?“ Glancing over in her direction, I exhale a sheepish laugh, avoiding the inevitability of the awkwardness I embodied.

I’d only desire to say, ” yea, right “.

But the innate fear of producing a statement that coordinated in no way long those lines, kept me silent, I knew whatever I spoke would most likely be misinterpreted as a lewd remark.

I remained mute, taking entirely too long to piece together a proper utterance to convey my appreciation.

Why don’t you believe you’re pretty, she asked as she ran her fingers up and down the left side of my neck.

She, now with full possession on my bodily functions, persuaded my neck to lure my head into a fixated position, in the opposite direction of where her hands laid.

My body overcome by the feeling of comfort , eyes closed, under hypnosis  I sway my being to the left and back and forward with little motion.

A story of forbidden lovers with secretive encounters played over the record player , I recognize the song from childhood car rides with my mother.

If I could free myself of her spell I’d stand up immediately and ask her to dance.

She ran a hand seductively across my face and whispered words in my ear that traveled through the canal, urging chills to rest on the edge of my spinal bone.

” I’ve been everywhere you’ve ever been, waiting for you.“

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