Fiction in 58, a story in small packaging
Spooning
They spooned on her tastefully appointed leather sofa, late, after drinks, conversation.
She rested her head on his shoulder, wrapped fingers around his wrist. Their breath, in time, harmonized.
His hand found the small of her back. He pressed.
She drifted off.
She twitched, yelped softly.
He ran a finger across her brow, ached to relieve the pain.
They spooned on her tastefully appointed leather sofa, late, after drinks, conversation.
She rested her head on his shoulder, wrapped fingers around his wrist. Their breath, in time, harmonized.
His hand found the small of her back. He pressed.
She drifted off.
She twitched, yelped softly.
He ran a finger across her brow, ached to relieve the pain.
Comments
I’d been turned into mush by the sensual choreography here, and was ready to drift off when, on “yelped,” my left eyebrow rose sharply. But it’s only because Nova’s having the occasional “episode” and I’ve had to pop dimenhydrinate down his throat and soothe him to sleep. God help me, but that aside, this piece of yours is sweet!
missalister