- Share This Post
- Pin It
- 0
- 3
-
Sparkle (6)
Write a short piece – fiction or non-fiction – inspired by one or both of these statements in 600 words.
She was drowning.
Hot watery spray sluiced down her skin, creating rivers where his tongue traced her body. Her knees threatened to buckle as another wave of pleasure slammed into her.
“Please. Please.” She begged him. To stop. To never stop.
His muscled arm twisted the faucet and the water vanished, leaving her panting, hands braced against the cool tiled walls as he pinned her there – his willing prisoner.
“Say it,” he whispered in her ear, as he teased her with his fingertips.
“Say what?” She asked coyly, knowing exactly what he wanted.
He growled and pushed her hands above her head, gripping them both in his left hand as his right made her body sing for more. “Say it.”
“I. Love. You,” she teased.
“Say it!” He stopped his movement, refusing to continue until she caved.
“I love you… Husband.” Her growing smile transformed into a moan as his touch resumed.
“I love you, Wife.” His voice tickled her left ear as they finally consummated the vows spoken mere hours ago.
She swore the earth moved as they became ONE.
Forever…
Bells clanged in the distance as she stirred awake, her muscles sore in places she hadn’t known existed. The late afternoon sun peeked through the blinds, shining a spotlight on the mosquito net covered bed. The air was full and thick, as if a storm loomed on the horizon.
She rolled over, seeking the strength of his arms, even in the stifling heat.
Empty. He was gone.
Her stomach twisted – missing him already – before growling.
Then she knew. Dinner. He left to get me dinner. She jumped out of bed, her muscles protesting as she did, and pulled her silky red kimono from the careless pile of clothing on the floor. The silk caressed her tender skin, already over sensitized, and she shivered as she tied the ribbon and rushed to brush her teeth before he returned.
Husband. He was finally her husband.
She’d only been in love with him since he’d moved next door at the age of six.
“We needed to miss twenty-five years so we could have a lifetime together,” he said, his eyes vowing never to let her go. “You are my life, my wife, and even when my eyes lose their sight you will be living in my heart.”
Why wasn’t he back yet?
She left the bathroom, consisting of a tiny sink, a toilet, and the enormous shower.
Anxious to see him as soon as possible, she left the brochure-dubbed "Honeymoon Hut" and padded out onto the soft sand of their private beach. The white sand quickly warmed her feet as she searched for him, her eyes coming up empty.
With a heavy sigh she turned away from the mainland, their hut placed on a tiny peninsula of tropical paradise. She walked toward the water’s edge, the journey further than she remembered as the low tide exposed a field of soaked sand. Colorful sea urchins and tiny fish danced in the mini pools of water left behind and she stood there, transfixed by them.
The breeze whispered her name, as she glanced up, smile ready for him.
And froze.
He sprinted for her, still a football field away - the reenactment of every classic hero moment in film..
Finally, one of his words reached her ears.
“RUN!”
Without hesitation she dug her toes into the soggy sand and fled, trusting him implicitly.
Her kimono came untied, but she left it, her arms too busy propelling her legs faster.
He never wavered, never stopped. Then she was there, in his arms.
“Hold me. Don’t let go,” he panted.
“Wh-?”
“I love you. Wife.” His kiss was tender – a good-bye – bringing tears to her eyes. His arms clenched around her, a concrete vise.
The freight train roar was the only warning she had before water slammed into them .
She was drowning.
reposted from: Rants from Space - Where No One You Know Can Hear You Scream
