wild horses

I wore silver gloves and a dragonfly in my hair. The music pounded at my feet as we pushed our way across the dance floor. The punch was sweet and cold.

We left early and went to the beach instead. I held on to every moment, the salt smell of the air, the gardenias twined around my wrist. The way you draped your jacket around my bare shoulders.

Our kisses tasted of popsicles and seashells and longing. We looked into the water, cold and silvery. After you drove away, I pressed myself against my bedroom door, breathless, and already lonely.

'wild horses' (c) riain grey 2006 - do not reproduce without written permission

the beach

It was like the last cigarette I smoked before I quit for good. That’s how it felt. There was sand in my hair and everything tasted like salt and your hands were so warm. I leaned into your arms so that the shifting wind couldn’t tear me away, and we stole secret kisses that only the ocean saw.

I felt the wind change that day. It plucked at my clothes and blew my hair in my face and distracted me, just for a second. When I looked for you again, you were already gone, like smoke disappearing into the rain.

'the beach' (c) riain grey 2006 - do not reproduce without written permission

the things i never told you

i named a disease after you. little black car disease, which is when you see a car that reminds you so much of your ex’s that you think he is coming to see you and take it all back.

i stole your leather jacket because it smelled like smoke and french fries and home.

i remember crumpling into a ball of pain the day you left me. your voice crackled and rasped on the telephone. i didn’t leave my room for three days.

i can still feel your arms around me. it’s like being held by a ghost. only worse.

'the things i never told you' (c) riain grey 2006. do not reproduce without written permission.

breakfast

Hannah bit into the orange. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. The drops of juice on her lips mesmerized me. All I could think about was pushing my cock into her. I cleaned off the kitchen table in record time. She was on her back in seconds, her legs spread for me. Her mouth was warm and her tiny noises drove me crazy. By the time I shoved into her she was wet and panting for it. Juices squirted out of her when she came, so much sweeter than the orange I could taste on her breath.

'breakfast' (c) riain grey 2006 - do not reproduce without written permission

send/receive

She clicks the button again, her heart pounding. Will he write today? It bothers her that it matters. After all, they will meet on Sunday as planned, whether he writes or not. He warned her about this addiction to suspense. He told her that he writes for his pleasure, not hers. Still, she shivers in hopeful anticipation. The words that spell out what he’ll do to her make her tremble. Tied. Collar. Dog. Candle. Whip. When his next mail finally arrives, she will gasp in relief, grateful and frightened at the same time.

'send/receive' (c) riain grey 2006 - do not reproduce without written permission

this year

This year, instead of candy or chocolates, I got a pair of pants. Pants that fit, that weren’t too tight. Pants that made me feel the way I used to, before the baby. I wore them home, enjoying the lusty glances that lingered on my ass. I showed off for my husband. “The pants look great,” he said. “But they’re gonna look better in a minute,” he continued, leading me into the bedroom. He was so right. Afterwards, I ate as many chocolates as I wanted.

'this year' (c) riain grey 2006 - do not reproduce without written permission