The Hot Place

Below the buzz comes the tick of the timecard piece stolen leather. Inhaling orange patchouli clad slippery fingertips against my fingers as they glide skin so fertile and lovely and long. I feel your whole esssence, your whole self naked and without conscience, and not caring what time it is and nobody gets to feel that anymore do they? You are so close to me that I can feel the heat off of your body rising as you press yourself into me. Crazy pace, slow stuck together in this timepiece of wonder, not knowing that this was quite possible, not believing it as it moves onward deeper into the caverns of green and yellow and red fantastical lights glimmering in your head that you press against my arms as your hands reline softly under my leaning body and you feel its weightlessness. Your breath is lightly heavy in my ears and my eyes are closed so I hear you so gently as your lips are close to mine and my hair is stuck to your arms and you sigh a sigh so heavy that it makes me open my eyes and make sure you are not falling.

We still have all night.

Calling.