The Meeting

He was the hardest thing to resist. A gold- plated halo of lies and deception yet she continued to be consumed by his shine. Blinded, really. So here they were again, this time, at a new location where the birds chirped happily about what they were about to witness, and the breeze rushed slyly to slice the tension that had stacked like a high, brick wall. Her wall. He was about to break it. Again. It had been two weeks since. He knew the exact tools needed, where he should apply pressure, and where he should nudge. As he pulled her closer and greeted her with that coveting smile, she gasped, and before she could muster a defense and a retreat, the sword of his tongue cut across the lines of her neck, with blades so smooth and wet, that she collapsed in his embrace. Territory had been marked.

It always intrigued her when they met, the hunger that filled his eyes, teeth protruding, waiting to devour, the way his breath salivated upon the tiny, frozen hairs that spiked in anticipation all over her skin. It was the way the creases along his face sank deeper as he relished the banquet, that he had come to feast. In many ways, he wanted her, needed her and no matter how many times she asked herself, “for how long?”, the inescapable feeling of being desired tugged at the trauma of never having received that love and the feeling moved to the rhythm of the banging drum singing, “he wants me,” ...... and so, for her, at every meeting, it was enough. 

He went down on his knees and her eyes followed quickly, where she met the steaming curl of his lips and heard him declare, “I’m thirsty”. He knocked on the door of the cave of jewels, he was proud that he needed no key, then he entered arrogantly and drank. Greedily, he gulped, and as he continued to weave his way through, one light stroke here, and a twirl over there, the mouth of the cave burst wide open, and water gushed. Her eyes rolled back, her back arched in surrender, as her nails battled against the dark cave walls, begging for him to retreat. To his delight, he drank some more, vanquishing his thirst. He loved her in this subdued state of matter, beneath him, melting and longing, speedy evaporation, he knew he was the perfect trigger.

The main course was even more delightful, and he jumped right in, savouring the exquisite flavours full of her soul’s seasoning. Her tides rose, and he jabbed his fork into her wave and took the first bite. Delectable. He desired more. This time, he rode the wave…. down under, inside, and outside, on the side he ducks, comes up for air, then plunges right back in, all the while his breath heaving like a rapture, his caged teeth bursting with glee because he anticipated reaching the shore. A few more swerves land the surfboard just where he wanted. She gnawed in his skin to hide the screams because the thought of crashing along the seashore ignited her with fearful passion. They landed haphazardly and they gasped, all the while they fiercely stared at each other, with increased telepathy, as they were both always baffled at how it felt just like the first time, every time they met to ride a wave.

Her happiness subsided though, just as quickly as the climax. Her summit plummeted. Every meeting had an end and always led to this point. Notes were taken, and sealed, only to read the minutes another day. He left her with a forehead kiss, the ultimate seal that "you're mine". As he grabbed his belongings and bolted for the door, he turned swiftly and locked his gaze in hers. "Two weeks, same day, same time," he announced rather than asked. As she sighed and sank into the soiled, depressed mattress, she heard the loud chirp of the birds again. Their cries were sorrowful this time, and they echoed the bitter cries of her heart. Another day of loving the one that was not her own, another beautiful day, but as usual............ the meeting had ended. "Oh well," she shrugged, and as she got up to make her exit, she whispered, "two more weeks."