Night

She had made up her mind. She would sleep with him tonight. For no reason other than that it was a possibility. A course of action clearly in her grasp. An unthought thought she hadn’t considered lurked behind her resolve. A force slowly building. A gap between the desire and the attraction, both like magnets, moving towards each other via forces of nature already preordained.

His kiss surprised her, a mid sentence lurch towards her frame, planted on a chair half expectant half hesitant. Still there he was, in front of her, on his knees (her height – or lack thereof- always a challenge in such intimate gymnastics). She had willed it and it came to be. From the balcony to a couch, her mind everywhere but there.

It struck her quite suddenly.

How had she become an observer in her own life? Girl meets boy. Boy kisses girl. Girl kisses back. A scene she was too familiar with. Or so she believed. She didn’t remember the last time she had actually been in the moment, free from the weight of trying to pry into the mind of the other. Enjoyed the action for its own sake, in its entirety. Slowly she anchored herself to him, for the first time feeling his lips against hers. Not the idea of the lips, not what she thought they felt like, what they had spoken, would speak. Lips slightly parting hers, tongue tasting of cigarette and weed shadows, slightly sweet as it searched for hers, a nameless hunger. A warmth not hers yet not alien. His hand tracing her form, the soft wetness between her thighs, his growing hardness, Yin meets Yang. She was there. Completely. The sensation was foreign. Not pleasure. A baser, rawer force – the need to be part of a whole.