Come slowly – Eden!
Come slowly – Eden!
Lips unused to Thee –
Bashful – sip thy Jessamines –
As the fainting Bee –
Reaching late his flower,
Round her chamber hums –
Counts his nectars –
Enters – and is lost in Balms.
—Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
His kisses tease me. He marks his territory along my jawline and in the crook of my neck, while his hands roam underneath my dress.
I had switched dresses for the reception, changed into to something a little more comfortable, less heavy, easier to move around in for our first dance, yet plain enough that I wouldn’t mind getting a little wine on it when we interlocked arms and let the Merlot cascade into our mouths from the tinted glasses.
But after all the guests had gone home, and we had checked into our honeymoon suite at the hotel, I stepped back into my gown from the wedding, its beaded lace bodice hugging every curve just right. I wanted the exhilarating pleasure of having my husband undress me on our first night together.
I imagined the intensity in his eyes—they always turn a darker shade of brown when he’s serious—full of adoration. I imagined how he’d wrap his arms around me to undo all twenty-seven buttons down my spine. He would pull apart the edges as if prying open a chest to a secret treasure, and let the bodice drop fall, exposing my breasts, but his self-control wouldn’t allow him to dive in right away. His eyes would remain locked on mine as he’d slip the dress down over my hips. He would run his hand down the back of my thigh, cup my leg at that knee and scoop me out and into his arms. He would carry me to the bed, lay me down gently and begin to explore every inch of my body with his lips, and like a delicate flower, I would unfurl for his buzzing feelers seeking the sweet nectar in my center.
And he did just that, down to every magical detail, everything I’d ever dreamed for on my wedding night, even before I knew his face.
Finally, he sinks between my legs and kisses me deeply on the mouth, every emotion he could never put into words condensed into that one impassioned, all-consuming kiss. He trails down to my ear, puts both lips to it, whispers, “I love you,” and his voice travels through my ear canal, inside of me, stroking my senses from my curling toes to my arching back, filling every crevice that hadn’t yet welcomed the seduction of his touch until tonight.
I exhale in bliss. I’m so glad we waited.
It is Short Story A Day May, and today’s prompt from Elise Holland asks us to draw on some Poetic Inspiration. I deviated from the suggested Shakespeare sonnet and chose this sensual—yes, sensual—poem by my favorite poet, Emily Dickinson. Try not to take the poem so literally, she may be describing a bee and a flower, but what are flowers but the sexual organs of plants? 😉 Anti-social recluse or not, we all have that hopeless romantic within us…