Radiator rhythm

As I huddled in the barren king-sized hotel bed the radiator clanked a syncopated rhythm that kept memories reverberating through my mind, body, soul. In this very bed this very morning we had sipped Mumm’s and deepkissed until he picked up one of my sandals and pretended to pour into it and lap up the imaginary bubbly.

I giggled. “you silly.”

“Think that’s silly?” He took a sip, poised on all fours above me, planted a gooey kiss on my neck and began a slow, slippery path downward.

My snicker changed to a soft mewling as my back arched like a kitten being stroked, and I felt like I might scream from the erotic sensations before he glided over me. Petting and kissing we nestled together for a long time. Too long.

“Hon,” I whispered.

In silence he kept up a steady stroking, a gallant attempt that failed us both. Nevertheless I pretended satisfaction, telling myself it wasn’t faking. Just a bit of acting, just this once. But now oh how I ached for a glorious coming together to cherish.

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copyright Carolan Gladden