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From: miramalin@aol.com (MiraMalin)
Subject: Wanting to share (m/f romantic)
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 A little more romance in all this sex - enjoy and repost as you choose. 

                                       PATMiramalin 8/11/98

Wanting to share

The darkness called but she resisted for she still felt so close to him and she
wanted him to share his enjoyment with her. To keep the loneliness at bay, to
keep the sadness of her soul from being so consistently alone, she sought out
his company again.  After smiling shyly across the room for what seemed like
hours, she knew he would get up and come over.  However, she knew instinctively
from his timid approach that he was not going to be what she so desired.

She was tired of crying herself to sleep or of thinking of the cold waters
closing over her chilled body, at her most desperate moments.  She knew that
another warmth in her bed, no matter whose warmth it was, would at least
prevent that insupportable engulfing of her spirit to morbid thoughts.  She
smiled welcomingly when he sat down, remembering for an instant all that had
flowed between them, the pangs of abandonment that she had felt and the depths
she had been almost driven to.  Nevertheless, she laughed when he made what he
thought was a clever comment and she looked almost adoringly into his eyes when
conversation lagged.  

He was so intent on winning her over again, he couldn't see what was there.  In
his male crassness, he overlooked the almost physical presence in the room,
that nearly palpable loneliness and the bitterness at his previous abandonment
of her. He didn't reach out to soothe away those pangs for he could not detect
them and he seemed to feel that a bridge had been crossed with her welcoming
smile. Perhaps, if he had identified the demons coursing around her he would
have withdrawn himself in that shallow craven way of a man presented with the
unexpected challenge of feminine ego, not feminine guile.

All the same, he chatted amiably.  And if he didn't pay attention to her needs,
he also overlooked the signs of her mind wandering.  He didn't notice her eyes
looking past him as they talked, looking for someone, anyone else, of interest.
   Anyone to distract her from this vapid trickle of attavistic words.

"Do you think I'm really listening," she thought as she murmured her assent to
some banal remark. "Do you really think I really care?" 

It is so easy to fool them, she thought slyly, as yet again she repeated the
last few words he had said, boosting his ego with a shy smile.  At the same
time she almost gained comfort from the knowledge that he would never know the
depth of her contempt.  Contempt for him, for being able to lead him where she
wanted to go.  Contempt for herself, for allowing it, for not running things,
for wanting and needing it all so badly.  

It didn't matter how good his company was, she'd only see him this time. She
stood and turned away from him and it was only at that precise moment that he
realised he had lost her.  He gazed up at her suddenly and hopelessly in love,
even as she was at the point of abandoning her.  As she reached for her purse,
she looked down at his lovelorn doe like eyes and hesitated for a moment,
almost won over by his belated devotions.  Almost a reversal of roles, she
thought, smiling her pity at him.  She bent to kiss his cheek, showing that she
cared a little and to thank him for at least being a pleasant diversion from
the all-encompassing loneliness for a few hours.  

She turned away, thinking what might have been, had it been right.  Such
passion could have ensued if only he had been it.  He could have given her such
pleasure such love through a sleepless night until dawn.  Taking her in every
way, making her moan in unprecedented excitement.  Those fingers could have
stripped her body, while those liquid green unblinking eyes could have bared
her soul.  

She clutched at her necklace with the palm of her hand, feeling her heart
palpitate.  She was thinking of a hand descending slowly between her breasts
and then reaching up gently to cup each one and kiss the soft tips, to chide
her for her inattentiveness that evening, nibbling, biting and forever teasing
her to fresh whimpers.  That warm kissed and now abandoned cheek could have
rested on her pale belly, gazing down in admiration at the smoothness of her
mound.  The almost boyish face, smoothed of stubble by a caring shave before he
slipped into her bed, could have rubbed against the inviting spread of her
thighs, kissing her, licking her and then reaching up to taste the viscosity of
her sex..... 

She stopped at the entrance to the club bar, feeling dizzy at the thought of
all that lost delight, half tempted to return and take the hunched figure
abandoned behind her in her arms to lead him to her bed.  Leaning back, she
closed her eyes, to the alarm of the doorman who thought she was going to
faint.  Enjoying the surging pleasure within her, that those thoughts that she
had created had given her and the realisation that she was her own mistress and
she would be the determinant of her future.  She had captured the nuances and
she had confidently retained the essences. She was a woman, she was her own
woman and she would sleep on her own terms tonight and every night.
          


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