Breath

It was so quiet. In the very early hours of the morning, when neither of us had found sleep. His party had tapered off into nothing. The world was silent as he slammed me up against a wall. Pushing my pants down over my hips and pulling my shirt off over my head. He grabbed my hair and drove me back against the wall several times, hard.

He pushed me down across his bed. Wrenching me into position with a hand in my hair. He tied my wrists to his headboard, a few moments passed before I felt something hot and liquid land on my bare skin. The wax kissed my breasts and belly as he moved the candle along my body. After a while, I ventured to open my eyes, and I gazed up into his face, the flame lighting his features. I found myself getting lost in his eyes, the intensity of his concentration running like an electric current throughout my body.

Soon he put aside the candle, and kissed me, gently, exploring. His hand ran along my torso, rolling my nipples between his finger tips. His hand slowly, tentatively ran down to the dark thatch of hair between my thighs, pressing up against my clit. His fingers danced, and my breathe quickened. He drew his hand away and took up the knife.

He began to slowly, methodically cut away at the wax from my body. I laid there, gazing up at him; it was as though I was witnessing the rapture. I was aware of the intense silence. As though the world were holding it's breath. When he was satisfied, he untied me, and we laid there, and snuggled up close and talked to one another. In time I gathered myself together and went to find a place to sleep among the bodies in his living room.

Sometime in the hours of the morning, while we slept, the world began to breath again.