By Kare Kibaara
I will see her tonight.
She will be in a long skirt.
As she comes my way, my knees will start knocking against each other and my palms will sweat rives. My forehead will be hotter than a flame but colder than ice to the touch. But not for long because one brush of her skin against mine will set me right.
My trembling lips will kiss hers, which are full of confidence. I know she will smile at how nervous she makes me. My shaking hands will pull up a chair for her hoping I don’t pull it too far back. She will sit and cross her legs making sure I see enough of her desert brown skin, revealed by the thigh high slit.
The gentle-lady in me will want to ask her what she will have but when my mouth opens all she will hear is a sigh. She will giggle at it. She knows what she is doing to me. Instead, she will order for herself.
She will start talking and with an acute sense of arrogance, reminding me why I still love her. Her laughter will leave me confused and her dark pupils will pierce through my soul.
As we leave, I will take her hand in a protective grasp. I will put my jacket over her shoulders, even though it is still warm outside. I will want everyone to know she is mine.
We will get home and I will softly kiss her neck. She will tremble and smile into my ear. We will talk about why death comes at 3 am and how deaf Beethoven composed music.
I inform her that she needs to be reprimanded for making me whimper like a child at her sight. After a night of retribution, she will wake up to soft kisses on sandy brown skin of her rib cage.
And a thank you note to her for always taking my breath away.
Check out Kare’s blog Kare Kibaara which is all about deviant love, same love, different love. Darkness, light…or lack thereof.
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