March 27th, 2008
It Begins With a Kiss
It begins, of course, with a kiss, with the faintest press of my lips between her eyes, and then another, just below the line of her hair. My hand splays across the small of her back, and I hold her there, hold her closer, wanting the moment to last forever. She’s intoxicating, warm and comforting, and her scent fills my lungs, her soap and shampoo, her skin and her hair, a drug wound up tight around that primitive, pleasurable part of my brain.
The scent is called Jacqueline, and I have missed it for far too long.
