A: I was thinking about a kiss.
Z: (passes the bag of chocolate kisses basically ignoring her because he was writing about a man's hands on the edge of a his intended's panties, edging by the waist band, inching toward the playground of passion... wanting... needing... demanding... and unrelenting.)
A: (does her to the ceiling and back again eye roll) Not that kind of kiss. (at the same time, she grabs the bag and tucks it next to her computer.)
Z: Busy. (still riveted to his computer screen, fingers dancing over the keyboard, eyes portraying passion, and deep breaths taken after being delayed)
A: With what? ( she leaned in close and read his screen) You dog.
Z: No, he's the dog and I'm just trying to challenge the freeform lust of a sex starved paramour.
A: I was thinking about a kiss... huh? (she gave the hairy-eye ball wanting him to deal with her)
Z: Not chocolate? (he leans back in his chair, turns from the computer and grins, bouncing eyebrows as if...) Ah, you mean, the ones of amour, passion, the hero and heroine exchange of spit and tongue, sharing heat, desire replenished with each touch, a validation for hearts, and the first salvo of the entwining of naked flesh.
A: Now, there's a romantic image for you.
Z: Hey, you caught me off guard. We were working on sexual character development, not let's get down and dirty. (he gave the serious look of querying) Did you want to...?
A: Wasn't thinking about that either. I was actually thinking about the four parts of a kiss, and discussing it over the next several weeks.
Z: Parts of a kiss? Upper lip... lower... tongue... and drool?
A: Get real. That is juvenile. I mean the emotion and purpose.
Z: Oh... those parts of a kiss?
A: Yup, well... kinda cause the last bit is the ending and that isn't truly the kissing part, but...
Z: But... you digress. If I may?
A: You may. (she sucked on a kiss... a chocolate one... eyes became dreamy... the spontaneous drool rolled quickly... and the want for more, undeniable)
Z: (he adjusted his pink necktie, worn with a t-shirt. As a side note, the tie was to honor breast cancer month) According to Levende Waters, A kiss seals two souls for a moment in time. A kiss can pause all time and flash those sharing to a dimension so private and so personal. However, I suspect you are thinking of a different moment, not the actual kiss itself, to share this week.
A: Aye, aye, Captain Intuitive. (she saluted)
Z: Strip and give me twenty! (he commanded as if a drill sergeant)
A: Haa-haa. That was so funny I forgot to laugh or... ever will.
Z: (providing the oh-well shoulder hunch, he continued) You wish to wax upon that moment before a kiss, you know when lovers gaze into each other's eyes, when the world disappears and their breaths mingle. At first the lips don't even touch, but the heart is screaming to be noticed as it hammers inside one's chest, a warm tingle spreads throughout one's suddenly paralyzed body.
Z: Ah, we must not rush the...well...rush.
A: So true, we are in the prolonged fragment of a forever blink.
Z: Yes, still in that instant, the one that goes on and on, an eternity in a second. Those few tick-tocks of such bated anticipation that sometimes breathing momentarily halts and all sense flees and there is nothing, nothing at all more important than the desirous urgings that pulse through a person. The urgency to kiss so base it is almost animalistic. The pull to kiss a virtual trove of pain held at abeyance by trite questions of should I, screamed down by the roar of the tigress and tiger that are them.
A: Ahhhh, the prelude. (she fanned herself feigning being verklempt by emotion) Beauregarde, you toy with a lady so. (her southern drawl still held a Yankee twang)
Z: I'm not lifting you in my arms and carrying you to the boudoir. So stop batting your eyelashes.
A: Shucks! You know how to fancy talk a lady!
Z: Back to talking about the kiss. Yes, the singular instant, that utter bliss and utter agony, wanting it to happen, needing it to happen, fearing it won't, fearing it will, fearing the loss of control, yearning for that loss of control. Mouths usually open at that point, can't be helped, you know. It's instinctive. Sometimes heads will tilt, preparing for that initial contact which soon becomes inevitable. And it all happens so fast, yet so slow. To me, it is the ultimate in romance. It isn't about sex, it is about the possibilities of heat and fantasy and endless passion.
A: (As he spoke, she frantically searched through computer files) Got it!
Z: Got what?
A: An excerpt from KILLER DOLLS that touches on just what you have been talking about.
EXCERPT: KILLER DOLLS
While bio-terrorists use her handcrafted dolls to attack the innocent, Letti Noel falls for FBI agent Taut Johnson. Deceit is a growing barrier to their love, but it's the stalking terrorists that threaten their lives.
He was so close. Her breathing was sparse. Her free hand landed on his shoulder. So much strength. So much heat. What would it feel like to have that heat curling
about her, that strength taking all she wanted to give. Her gaze searched his. She wanted him. The draw of it nearly had the words spilling from her mouth. "It was an…an amazing evening," she stammered, barely able to string the words together as he moved his hands to her waist, nearly circling it as he pulled her to him, thigh to thigh, belly to belly, breasts pleasantly pressed against his rock-like chest.
"Letti," he said her name as if paying homage to a goddess.
She could say nothing. She could barely remain standing. It had been so long since her libido felt this raw. She imagined her panties could not contain the juices flowing from her and she felt that urgency of longing, the sort that went to a place of fantasy as if it were possible to feel wet trickle down her inner leg to be absorbed by her thigh highs. Her head tilted to one side, her eyes half closed, and...
A: That's it, you're stopping there?
Z: But, of course, it is that moment you wanted, nothing more, that prelude.
A: (Smiled) Yes, exactly, very wise. Next week, though, let's go for first contact, yes?
Z: If you say so. You do mean in the abstract... not you and I? (he looked like he ate a grapefruit)
A: Don't be ridiculous our only first contact is accidently touching in the candy bowl.
Z: You do face dip as if bobbing for tootsie rolls.
A: Your point???
Z: None. I have to get back to writing and get my hand back into the character's panties.
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