“The Zen of Seduction”

The Touch of Love The Touch of Love

“Come, come closer to me.
I want to smell your hair.”

Her eyes blinked challenge.

“Here, let me…”

I reached for her sharp-bridged nose.
Just as I posied my finger, to slide it
down her face just west of her nose…

“…No, no…”

I passed my finger gently down
the west side of her face. Ever
so gently.

“Marble smoothness, tight, flawless,
taut,” I said.

Her eyes watched my eyes. We
were microsms of fire. Explosions
marred an otherwise boring night.

“Your finger competes with time,”
she almost moaned.

“What do you mean?

“If you don’t kiss me soon, I will
let someone else share my fire.”

I really smelled her then. Lavenders
in Spring. Her eyes, prisons of love.
Her hair, silk dreams. Her mouth,
full with cherry-colored lipstick,
boiled into mine.

A volcanic eruption stilled the blazing
night. Her breasts, grapefruits, soft,
but hard, pliable but firm. As I moved
my mouth and tongue over her tight
stomach, a fragrance, nearly misty-like,
entered my senses.

It was then, at that time, that time whizzed
past me to a time where I felt safe and
comfortable and happy.

Afterwards, she nuzzled me and said,
“You’re just the man for whom I’ve
been searching, my soul mate.”

With that, she hugged and kissed me.

As I fell backwards into a field of daises
growing out of water. this feeling
of tremendous relief swept over me.
There was no splash, but a lot of other

“I don’t believe in soul mates.” My
heart thumped against me like a
stick hitting a drum.

“Well then, we’ll see about that.”

We were off, talking then, as though we
had waited and saved everything up

we wanted to tell each other for
years for a moment just like this one.