No children's scripts today. I need to recapture my brand of vulgarity!

by Susan Abraham

Here is a slice of sensual whimsy from something much longer that I was writing:

Blanketed by the roundness of breasts and closeted in folded arms, I would curl into a corner and be shaken to life only by a sudden surge of nipple.

Then I would hide behind falling tresses and a red smile lipsticked to perfection. The trick was to bask in orgasms of wellbeing that taunted my desire with both mischief and ease of spirit. Often they waited in a queue, some stunted and quickly extinguished like a broken matchstick while others dragged on my choked breaths with the slow stretch of a cat.

When it was you, I minded neither.
In fact, I would take liberties.

Make me your mismatched saint, I would plead. Bolt your sperm in the storeroom of my body. Here and now at the bottom of my ocean depths, that swish about in angry eddies, hassled by my frequent coming. Your treasure will not escape, not even to make a baby. Tattoo your name in my Siberian bed of red, in this dark reclusive wild. I promise to let no intruder trample on the forbidden. I will cover your initials in a clever place, like a star in a cloud. I will bind my legs so tightly together that no one will see a thing.

Who but you who come into my bed to sit on my pillows and sidle up and down my warm mountain of sheets with brazen fervour. Let us froth up a bang and I shall forever be your lover extraordinaire.

I prayed to be melted down into a delicious mound of butter for a languid spread on your cold, hard toast. ....