Thursday, February 28, 2013


Henry Finck once said, "Is not a kiss the very autograph of love?" 

A: As in a signature?
Z: As in the definition?
A: Naw, sometimes it is simply lust.
Z: Aww, but a kiss with the possibility or the totality of love has a sweetness balanced with a passionate intensity unequaled to simple lust.
A: I do agree, but sex can be just sex.  A kiss could just be just a kiss that sudden spark between two people that needs to be enacted at exactly that precise moment. 
Z: Is that the difference between romance and erotica?
A: I think romance exists in erotica and erotica can exist in romance.  All in all I believe the difference simply exists with the reader.  They choose the books they read upon the level of intimacy they crave.  Romance and erotica can also have elements of mystery, suspense, basic contemporary, humor, supernatural, fantasy, historical, Gothic.  It is a genre within a genre.
Z: And a kiss can sometimes be just a kiss.  It is the elements that surround that kiss that justify its performance.
A: Over the next few weeks we will delve into a variety of kisses from those that are between tormented lovers, to those that are lustful, to those that are coerced.  In the meantime...(puckers her lips and blows a kiss.)

The following is not a kiss scene but the longing that exists within a woman who craves more than just a kiss from a man she only just met.  


             After changing her tea to lemon-ginger, she sipped it as she walked to the bathroom.  Once there, she applied peppermint essential oil on her temples and the back of her neck, a conciliatory action since both the tea and oil were natural headache remedies.  She mildly regretted the use of the oil, knowing she’d wash most of it off while showering. 
            Tossing off her robe, she caught her reflection in the mirror.  This day she noticed her cheeks were expressive and her breasts displayed eloquence, their suppleness overt.   A sheer white teddy, cut provocatively low, revealed more of her breasts than it covered.  French cut legs edged with Battenburg lace enhanced long, tapered limbs.  She knew her form was seductive, the kind that staggered men and brought the envy of women.  Fantasies of men wanting her would race, some garbled and many succinctly clear, she understanding that her figure was naturally alluring and spontaneously flirtatious and, whereas she privately enjoyed that power, she feared the consequences.  The satiny material caressed her skin and made her feel especially feminine.  Katrina loved silk, satin, and lace, but only indulged when it came to lingerie.  Determined to avoid attention from men like Calloway, Katrina refused to wear provocative clothing.
            As Katrina waited for the shower to heat up, she pulled out an array of lotions, bath gels, and colognes.  Soon the bathroom filled with steam along with the pampering of a lilac aroma.  It was an old bathroom with a corner shower, pedestal sink, and claw foot bathtub.  The building used to belong to her grandmother.  Kit had transformed the bottom level into a restaurant while maintaining the top as an apartment.  It used to be a bakery below.  She often thought she should have kept it as such and just rode through the low-carb phase that had grandmother's business dying.  How much worse could it be than this? 
            Katrina removed the teddy, lifting it over her head, exposing very well-groomed pubic hair, and a swimsuit model’s waist and breasts, and then she stepped into the comforting spray.  Ignoring her bandaged hand, she worked bath gel into a large sponge and ran it over her body enjoying the touch.  Small translucent bubbles adorned her skin making her beauty more an art-work. Both the warm water and peppermint aroma mingling with the lilac began to take effect.  Tension evaporated, leaving calm serenity in its wake. She found herself lost in thoughts, thoughts not surprisingly racing toward him, Caleb. 
            She couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to have Caleb’s work-toughened hands follow the same path as the sponge.  She remembered his tender touch and that unexpected innocent kiss, with its subsequent unexpected tingle.  Beneath the gentleness, there had been incredible heat and strength.  Hands like his, with those powerful fingers, could elicit magic, burning, stimulating, prompting magic.  He’d find all those secret spots that only intuitive men knew about.  She tossed her head back and pretended to feel his callused palms trace the curve of each breast then down over the swell of her hips to her buttocks.  He’d linger there awhile before seeking that most sensitive core, making her want and want and want - like she did now.
            She caught her breath and bit her bottom lip.  She had to stop fantasizing about him!  She couldn’t.  The man stole her breath.  Scorched her senses.  She imagined his bare chest, rivulets of shower rolling over the powerful mounts of flesh that were his shoulders and gasped delight and wonderment. 
            His muscles and well-sculpted features weren’t the main attraction, though.  Magnetism drew from his husky laugh and quick easy grin, in the timbre of his voice with its upstate drawl and its velvet-over-satin sensuous undertone, and in the way he yearned to do right even as he impetuously threaded upon erroneous paths.  And beneath that mask of pure maleness was the soul of a good man, she saw it, adored it.  Oh yes, at first blush, Caleb McBride was a man any woman would find intriguing.  But only a fool would fall for a man she didn’t know inside out.  With her body tingling and her mind filled with erotic images, Katrina felt like she could quite easily become the world’s biggest fool.  Foolery aside she ruminated once more his want of her skin, form, and response.  She wanted him to want to know her intimately unlike any other had, and just like she dreamed someone might.  That want was almost irrepressible.
            Muttering a curse and then either being innately hypocritical or just denying the truth she switched on the cold water and stood under its stinging spray until her teeth chattered, repeating I must stop… I must stop.
            Then just as she stepped out of the tub, she heard a heavy knocking.  Probably Donna, she thought, ready for more details now that the kids were all in class.
            Grabbing a bath towel and wrapping it about her, she took a step toward the bathroom door, slipped on the damp floor and managed a comical spill that had her buttock hit the floor, towel falling free, and her head slightly graze the tub.  A yelping scream followed a rather loud thump it audible enough to resonate throughout the apartment.   
            She heard the door bang open.  Hear heavy feet stomp through the apartment.  What was Donna wearing, combat boots?
            She saw a shadow.  “I’m ok,” she assured her friend.  “I just slipped on the…”
            The words evaporated like steam on the mirror as Katrina eased up on her elbows and found her startled gaze clashing with Caleb McBride’s ardent one, he absorbing every inch of her naked and exposed flesh.

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