I’m Flying

One text from him, just a few words. That’s all it takes and my mind begins it’s floating. My heartbeat races, my breath quickens. I feel heat in my cheeks, a flurry in my belly. I want. I desire.

For the rest of the day, I have trouble staying focused on much of anything. I’ll be doing something and just pause, maybe to daydream of possibilities or replay past experiences, hoping. Then, I’ll realize someone has been standing in front of me speaking for 5 minutes and I didn’t even know they existed. Or I’ll look at the clock and realize a ridiculous amount of time has passed and I’ve halted all movement and can’t even remember what task I was engaged in. All day long, I won’t be able to stop anticipating. I wouldn’t stop it if I could.

Then, it happens. We are together and I’m consumed. I lose track of place and time and I simply exist. I feel. I please.

The next day, I wake up still floating. My brain is muddled and conflicted, because I have to focus on the day’s tasks, but I don’t want to. I’ve stored the reel from the night before and it longs to play. And replay. If I’m still for long enough, and the replay begins, I don’t have a choice, I have to let it play out. I don’t even need to close my eyes. I feel as I felt. I see what I saw. I am as I was. I blush, not because I’m embarrassed, but because it’s that easy to stoke the fire. Just a thought. The remembrance of the smallest of touches, a whisper in my ear, his breath, hot on my skin.

And I’m flying.

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