Private Love?

Not in a solitary prison cell, yet Bria felt confined. The claims of love he professes are starting to feel like murky, running, water and Bria certainly cannot swim. It is always the same prelude to them meeting. Numerous telephone calls a week in advance, saying how much she means to him and how much he yearns to be in her presence, while Bria shivers and smiles and squirms at the thought of being wanted. She plays out them meeting in her mind countless times and can already feel the warm of his touch, the luring tug of his perfume and the vulturous pull of her waist in his direction as he sinks his slivering tongue into her parched mouth. Tumultuous explosions of the volcanic kind, but the lava scorches.

As Bria packs her tools of enticement, especially that red lipstick he loves, she cannot help but wonder why a love so marvelous had to be kept a secret. Even diamonds must shine, should they not. With a bit of guilt and a little regret, she cunningly makes her way to the arms of the man that daylight can never touch. A charmer of sweet chocolate delight, decadent to the touch and to the taste.

The meeting place is always the same, a small dimly lit room, dark curtains, soft rugs, and of course, a shower. He comes in and heads over to where she sits at the edge of the creaky, wooden bed. He stands so close that his scent permeates, and she falls victim to his magic all over again. The man smiles at Bria and begins to descend to seize and capture. She inhales sharply and his tongue labours and toils and opens up gateways that exclaim, heave and gush. A master manipulator, this man, and he has Bria exactly where he wants her: frail, expectant, and dependent. As he turns her over to explore more of her ravenous caves, she asks him softly, "do I not mean so much more to you?"

 

Of course, he rushes to answer yes, but Bria is not convinced. This private love affair is proving to be a daunting task. She wants the world to see her by his side and she desires for him to show the world that he indeed needs her by his. This time, in that lonely hotel room, their climax brings him satisfaction but it brings her to tears. The man has given her so much to hope for but all Bria can feel is despair. She desires a bold love, a public love, a love unmasked.

As she heads for the small cubicle of a shower, she does not turn back to smile. Instead, she weeps silently inside as she makes stern promises that any real love should never be a private love. This, too, must, end.