She was lying on her side in the middle of the living room. Beckoning me to come closer. Her eyes and brows formed this sharp, inexplicable allure that hits me like a lustrous sheen from a thousand swords.
She was wearing nothing. The thin linen blanket that lined the edge of her curve slipped down to her waist. Her long wavy hair was still damp from the late afternoon shower. They smelled of summer ripe peaches and sweet vanilla. Under the warm waft from the ceiling fan, they fluttered.
She bit her lips. She let her gaze hunt me like a hungry hound. She knew she got me. And I had no chance…
She inches her way towards me. I tried hard to bury the surge that’s growing inside of me away from my telltale eyes. Like the last soldier standing against a horde of enemy, I put on a fake bravery.
Then, her lips discovered mine. Boldly, her fingers moved mischievously. And I succumbed.
And, at that very moment, as she claims what is hers, I wish it was possible for me to conceive her bloodline. Our bloodline. To have a descendant with a resemblance of whatever grace and charm that never fails to captivate me. Her wide piercing eyes, her crimson lips, her brilliant wit……and that smile.
Imagine that. Imagine being bestowed with another one of that smile. Another velvety touch on the coldest of days. Another kind words when the rest of the world look away. Another heart to love.
Another Emme.
Imagine that.
