Faithless Passion in Cashmere

Faithless Passion

The finest clothing made is a person’s skin, but of course, society demands something more than this.” –Mark Twain

I walked into his private parlor, palpably arrayed with his aesthetic touches, history, and spiritual energy. It became clear that art is a window to his soul. I could sense it touched him profoundly. This aura aroused my curiosity for some form of spiritual enlightenment through him. I felt his affinity for the arts in a sensual way.

He gently leaned over and whispered softy, “I’ve wanted to tell you something.” He paused to align his breathing with his heartbeat. “You are a very beautiful woman.” He felt his blood rushing through his veins as the aroma of the musk fragrant that I had spritzed over my skin aroused him. He laid his provocative hands on my face and leaned toward the corners of my plump lips trailing feather light kisses. I wasn’t shocked by his intimacy. I held my breath as I felt his twirling tongue on my skin gently taking my flesh into his mouth. I felt joy from his explorative soft kisses and his fingertips pressing against my neck. He released the pressure of his fingertips and wrapped me closely in his arms. The feeling between us felt like we were in silent meditation.
“I have to go,” I said as I tried to hide my explosive outbursts of emotions from seeping. I swayed my hips provocatively as I walked away from his admiring stare. The morning air was heavy and warm.  We could have easily been consumed with our faithless passion. “Maybe it’s something spiritual; there was something gloomy and peculiar about him today that was trying to revive from an innate state.” I immediately dismissed my thoughts, and became attentive to his stare admiring the contours of my womanly body. He blushed at my fallen hair pressing against the soft fabric of his cashmere red sweater. My eyes reflected a glowing hidden passion he longed to devour.

His eyes were still lit on me like bees on a radiant flower as he explored all the possibilities of regret for our intimate encounter, but his heart failed to resent me when it embraced the reflection of the fire glow in my eyes penetrating through his body.  He reached and touched my hand while sending a telepathic wave of tremendous loneliness that we both knew we’d always feel because of our significant others. Slowly, I then slithered out of his red cashmere sweater,and stood up bold upright owning my own sensuality.

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