sort of equating writing with sex. Not sure how well it worked. But it did okay - 3 votes. I seem to be consistent with 3 votes (sometimes I wonder if they're the same 3 people all the time - haha). My husband gave me a bad time for using "exegesis" - oh well, I've been wanting to use that word for a long time. ;-)
At least I didn't "peg the umbrella" in this one (see previous post).
Losing Her Composure
"I need your words," he'd said, "write to me."
And she did.
She pulled a small notebook from her back pocket, warm after being
nestled close to her ass, turned to a blank page. Began.
First she used pencil, tip freshly sharpened and ready. Firm, pink
nubbin held tightly by a metal collar.
Graphite, slick as black ice, curved sensuously
S - across the fibers
extended itself - E
X - reaching to touch in all directions.
Tentative, then bolder, pressing harder
to elicit a response,
to read more.
She grabbed a ballpoint pen from the jar on her desk. Scribbled
frantic circles at the edge and pushed on. Blue permeated page after
page. Her hands moved fast, formed blotted words, blurted words
that made her blush. Too soon her pen was out of ink.
Moving to her computer, her fingers frothed over the keyboard. She
used each symbol in this, her exegesis of desire. Oblivious to the red
building before her eyes, all she was aware of was her breath coming
fast, her heart pumping faster, her wetness, her need to keep words
speeding across the screen toward the precipice where she knew she
wouldn't be able to stop she wouldn't be able to see she wouldn't be
able to know anything but this...
this teetering, this excruciating, unbearable moment just before she