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Coffee
Richar A Fields, Jr
Decatur, Georgia - Accounting
We sat across from each other, sipping coffee, barely aware of the other
diners in the crowded restaurant. The meal had been excellent, brook
trout in a Provencal butter sauce, pan fried string beans, crisp and
juicy, a mixed green salad and a fruity Vouvray white wine. I was amused
at the way the wine mellowed him to the point where he was ready to
laugh at my most absurd inanities.
Everything was going so magnificently
well. The conversation was stimulating and provocative, the dimly lit
room was set off perfectly by a burning candle between our plates, and
there was a romantic ambiance encircling us, created by the superb
pianist softly strumming sultry notes in the background. With each
breath I drew, the subtle fragrance of his Curve cologne became more and
more intoxicating, lifting me higher and higher, my heart beating
faster and faster.
Then he looked me directly in the
eyes, placed my hand in between his palms, and simply held it there in
exquisite captivity while a drop of liquid rolled down the trunk of the
candle
down, down, down, slowing until it froze and became concealed in
a cloak of wax. For an ephemeral eternity, he gazed into my eyes, looked
at them, studied them, while the flickering flame of the fire blazed and
reflected into his auburn pupils.
Suddenly, I felt my face being drawn
in closer to his, as if by some invisible magnetic force. The pull was
so strong, and I was definitely not resisting. Halfway across the table
our faces met, and I could feel his breath tickling the skin on my lips,
enticing them to come closer. And they did. Our lips became intertwined,
interconnected, and I felt the heat in my body rise until it was
unbearable. It burned, hotter and hotter, until I felt as if I were on
fire, and I abruptly broke the bond between us, emitting a piercing
scream.
The entire time we were kissing I
hadnt even noticed the candle burning below us, and my chin had been
singed by the fire. The scream endured and then died off as I winced in
pain. However, I refused to let this frantic episode destroy our
evening.
I moved the candle aside and we
continued where we had left off. Once again I thrust my head towards
him, eyes closed, lips pursed, until I felt him begin to massage my face
with his tongue in quick strokes. He licked and licked, all over my
face, my nose, my cheeks, everywhere, until my face was wet and sticky
with saliva.
I opened my eyes and found myself
laying in the darkness. I was completely covered in sheets in the midst
of my bedroom, and I could just barely make out the furry silhouette of
Mocha (my feline companion) hovering above me, working me over with his
thick, pasty tongue.
It had all been a dream. A wonderful,
passionate, and vivid dream, but still just a dream.
I continued to lay there in anguish, as Mocha licked my face, wishing
that my mind would cease to play such horrible tricks on my body at
nighttime.
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