Southern Comfort

Emma Lee breathed deep and felt the tingle run the length of her, down to her toes. Damn! She could feel the pull, the searing temptation. She lay on the bow of the Hatteras admiring the dip between her hip bones, the smooth mocha of her tan, the high cut of her black bikini that made her long legs look longer. TK set her up. They both knew it. He was testing her will and she was toying with his restraint.

He offered the boat for sunbathing on Monday. It was his office day. The bar was closed. She rolled over and unhooked her top. The pressure of her own weight pushing her body into the deck drove her crazy. The hot delta sun melted into her. Why were they doing this to themselves and each other? It could have been settled on any Saturday night if she’d led with her hips. Once they knew they couldn’t unknow. Not knowing put her in a state. She let her imagination take her away.

She woke up with a jolt when the ice cube slid between her shoulder blades. She looked up, all fierce expletives, to see his white teeth and gold crowns laughing in amusement. She collected herself and noted the contrast of his tanned brown bare feet on the spotless white deck. She got up and followed him aft. He put Jimmy Buffet and Little Feat on while he splashed southern comfort over ice. They went back out to the aft deck with their drinks, lounging on either end of the settee, feet nearly touching. He looked into her eyes assessing his position. She didn’t flinch. They laughed at once. The fire was smoldering. She understood loins and so did he. When she bent her leg, he ran his index finger over her tattoo, exerting the slightest pressure, “What’s this?” “It’s an old drinking injury, that’s all” she thought she’d slither on out of her skin right then.

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About elroyjones

Married, no children, responsibly self-directed, living happily.
This entry was posted in Autonomy and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Southern Comfort

  1. John says:

    I think this is shaping up to be the next 50 Shades of Gray. 🙂

    • elroyjones says:

      Lust is like a drug or like drinking, once the mystery is gone you want it again but it can’t be replicated, like chasing that first high or having the drink that puts you where you want to be and one more just makes you drunk. It was challenging to try to communicate that without being cliche; more challenging because men and women have different physiology and I have no idea what it feels like to be smoldering inside a man’s body.

  2. Steamy! And I love Little Feat!!! And best of all… none of this rhymed… or mentioned poo… yay

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