Terrible, But in a Good Way

I finally let my breath out as I collapsed over her. My face was pressed against her damp back, and I longed to taste more of her. Blowing warm air over her back I traced a line down her side.

...She pants beneath me, half-exhausted, half-warming up. Her body rises to try to meet my lips, and I give in. Pulling away, I lift her shoulders and turn her over, burying myself in her wet sex. I kiss it and she moans and grinds into my face. I suck at the folds of her hot, slick pussy. She moans and writhes against my face, eager for my mouth. Later. First, I will look into your eyes. I clasp her waist and stare at her wet sex. Keeping my face mere inches away from her body, I let my eyes wander up her torso, and move up until I'm between her full breasts. I brush my cheek against her straining nipple and then flick it with my tongue. She bucks against me. I know I will enjoy savoring her later, but now my destination is elsewhere. I kiss her neck and she draws me in. I close my eyes and slowly drag my face above her face, until our lips are aligned. She presses into me and I savor the feeling of our lips pressed together. She leans in for a kiss, but I don't return it. I am prepared to meet her gaze, so I pull away a few inches and slowly open my eyes.

I'm expecting the face of a divine being, of S. I brace myself for the shock of meeting the glowing face that has eluded me all of these months, these years.

An angel stares back at me. But her eyes are green. And her heart-shaped face has sharper lines. Her lips are fuller. Her brows are thinner. This is not the face I had just seen in the glass...

I pulled away. This was not S. Not the S I had seen and felt in my dreams. I removed my hands from her waist and stepped back. Her stranger's face crinkled in concern.

I backed away. "I'm...ah...sorry. I'm sorry," I stammered.

"Wait!" She cried out. She stood, her full, bare body resplendent. I was paralyzed by the reality of the situation. Clumsily stepping out of her skirt, peeling off the pantyhose at her ankles, and discarding her heels. She rushed towards me as naked as the day she was born. And she was beautiful, but she was a stranger.

She reached out to me, and I felt her hand at the side of my face. It was warm and soft, but somehow foreign. "I'm worried I'll never see your perfect face again," she said. Uncertainty flashed in her eyes, and she looked down. Her hand slid a bit. "Stay," she whispered, looking at the floor.

My heart beat rapidly. I felt detached. This was not S. My panic rushed hotly through me. "I love someone else," I blurted.

Her eyes shot back up. "Does she love you?" she asked.

"Well. It's impossible to know that."

"How well do you know her?" she pushed.

"Very well. She lives within me."

"But have you ever felt her the way you felt me just now?" she whispered meaningfully.

"No."

She smiled. "But I have never, never, never...met you. So, baby, be good to me. I've got nothing to give you, see, except everything," she said slowly, deliberately. It was that song, that song I loved.

She leaned in to kiss me. When her lips lightly pressed against mine, I felt almost swayed by her softness and heat. But then the coldness overtook me. I could not.

"But she is all I know right now," I said as I pulled away.

I walked backwards; she let her hand fall. She didn't pursue me. She looked defeated—and hurt. I turned swiftly and rushed out the door. I walked briskly to the elevator, ready to break into a run at any moment. But I didn't know what was chasing me. I jabbed the call button. The elevator opened immediately and swallowed me up.

We had crossed each other's lines, I realized. And, if I ever fictionalized it, I would have to inhabit parts of her experience, even the parts that were terrible—terrible in a good way.

Her name was Laira. I saw it on her desk. But I walked away clutching my dreams because I could not.