a summer mystery

She wonders how it must feel for a man, the sudden envelopment of heat, silk, liquid. The complete imersion of pulsing nerve endings into their comfort source, their vice, their cliff of steep slope and no return. She imagines the thrill of tight flesh wrapped around, a window that whispers, "It's summer, the heat lies outside in piles, I leave a gap open for a breeze, an escape for this moment, won't you sneak in?"

And, will you?

When you walk into the room, colors of the August sky hanging on the window sill and echoing against walls, when you see her lying there, wrapped in a thin white sheet, like a spider web caught in breeze, when you catch her eyes that cha-cha, yet remain unmoving, will you?

Will you push open the window, allowing a gust of wind to wash over her, stealing away her voice and the smoothness of her heartbeat? Will you feel the way her body loses its form and molds against your own? Will you release yourself into the summer trance and return changed, or at the least, breathless?

She waits.