Three night stand

By africanfire2442

“Can I ask you something?”

I had finally found my voice. My lover did not startle. She sat naked, opposite my own naked form. Our legs were intertwined in a helix, so that our chins rested almost on the other’s shoulder. This comfortable position was familiar, after hours of endless love making, also that it allowed us that we each could scroll our phones privately was a bonus. I felt her right hand rest on my lower back just as she let out a ‘sure’ cloaked in a deep sigh. She did not turn to face me, instead, her fingers started their ceremonial dance along my spine.

I wanted to ask, in fact, the question was already on the tip of my tongue, that was dancing with hers. She lay me on my back in one swift motion and for a minute or two, I was still appreciating the smoothness of that move. Her hand stayed under me, now cupping my cheek, lightly touching, then spontaneously slapping, sometimes travelling up the side of my body to my neck. Her other hand always stayed at the base of my neck. She controlled the kiss, with her hand around my neck, pulsing, gripping, surrendering and steering, all in one motion. She was good with my body like that.

When her mouth finally left mine, I wanted to ask again. I needed to know. The question would have left my mouth if it was not hanging open from the gasps of pleasure coursing through it. Her lips almost touched the base of my neck, but she nibbled instead. I arched my back, so my breast would meet her lips again and again. my body instinctively moved upward, so her mouth would travel downward. I felt her warm hand touch the inside of my thigh, and I felt the bed shift as she moved lower. I could feel her breathing against my navel. Then she stopped on the soft mould in between my pelvic bone and my thigh and kissed.

Her phone rung. “Hey baby.”

Silence.

“Yes, I am still at work, but I will be home soon. I love you too.”

My lover rose from her throne in between my legs and sorted through the hurricane of clothes to put on her dress, heels and makeup in silence. I sat up and watched her get ready to leave. The question on my mind had already been answered, by a woman on the other end of the line. She did not meet my eyes until she was fully dressed. There was not a single hair out of place, nothing to suggest we had spent three days rolling in the metaphorical hay, not a hint of the hours upon hours of orgasms, whisperings or declarations. I looked for something to say, a goodbye or a later, but instead I asked the one thing I needed to hear.

“What are we?”

She must have not heard me, because she had already walked away.

This post was first published on africanfire2442’ s blog Interruptus.

Posts from the magical women and gender non conforming people around the African continent. To have your voice on the site email submissions@holaafrica.org with your submission, title of piece and name you want to be published under. For inquiries email info@holaafrica.org. All rights remain with original authors.
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