The topic was 'Perfume', but it came with an added challenge - we had to mix two genres. You know... horror and comedy or suspense and drama and so forth. I instantly wanted to write something lusty but suspenseful.
Lust and suspense...
How to make perfume lusty with a side of suspense...?
Or suspenseful with a side of lust...
What was I thinking?
Anyhooo... this is what I came up with.
©Sandra Fitzgerald April 2016
He’s all around me… over me… inside of me. He’s my everything… my only thing.
My bound legs are stiff, my back aches and the raw chaffing on my wrists burn, but none of it matters. He’s the only thing that’s essential – as air is to my lungs, he is to my life.
My heart beats heavy, painstaking thuds, each one more difficult than the last – each one more essential than any other.
Pins and needles attack my feet as a large hand engulfs my throat, causing my head to automatically tilt back welcomingly. His thumb caresses the ridges of my windpipe, pressing gently, but purposely. His warm breath feather’s across my face, his cologne, God… his scent… the one I love as much as him, sends my olfactory system into hysterics. I could breathe him in for an eternity and still never get enough.
I still desperately crave to wrap myself up inside of his much broader, stronger frame and relish the way he holds me, the way he allows me to believe I’m wanted, needed… desired. I yearn to press my mouth against his soft, full lips and kiss him deeply… to have him kiss me back. My pulse soars at the thought alone. The possibility of the reality leaves me in blank confusion; the idea is so fantastic, it’s completely beyond comprehension. I love this man beyond comprehension, beyond rationality.
I inhale an anguished, congested breath through my nose. The runny snot catches in my throat and causes me to choke out scratching coughs.
It causes him to tighten his grip to bruising. Suffocating. I don’t flinch away. Instead I try to lean in closer. I try… I’m tied too tightly to move more than a few centimeters.
My skin prickles and my eyes still manage to fill with heartbreaking, salty tears under the pressure of my forced darkness. We had so much together and now… now we have this. He’s everything to me, but I’m not to him. To him I’m so much more… and so much less…
He’s so close… so very close that I can feel the weight of his masculine body hover over me. He swallows my whispered gasp as the play of moist, air-light pressure trails from my left earlobe, along the span of my jaw, hovering torturously out of reach of my mouth, before continuing along the other side of my face. My thundering heart is not my own. It hasn’t been for the longest time. He owns it. He owns all of me. I would give him anything he asks, do anything he wants without question, without hesitation.
I’m a fool.
Sharpness spears under my chin as his thumbnail forces my head further back and my spine to arch. My lungs fill so deeply with the sudden injection of pain, I can taste his cologne. It sears my sinuses and scores my throat… God… my… God… I love the way he smells. It’s a high like no other, an addictively consuming need that annihilates me. That brings me to my knees every… single… time.
We all have our weaknesses…
I try to lift my torso higher, but no matter which way shift, how far I twist or curve, I can’t reach him. I’m secured too tightly, he made sure of that.
I’ll never be able to reach for him ever again.
He’ll make sure of that, too.