needing him tonight

She is a woman defined by the maps contained within her body. Every moment that passes bleeds back into those lines, those crevices, those clothed secrets. Her dress, the color of a night time summer sun, covers some of these. The scars that say she's been hurt, the lines that say she's a mother, the tattoo that says she takes dares seriously.

Tonight, she's going out. Tonight, she's adding temporary detours onto her skin.

When she arrives at the club, the air is thick with noise, rhythm, perspiration, longing. She is not here for that though, not here for them. She's here for only one person. She knows where he will be waiting.

When she reaches the top of the landing, she glances off the balcony to her left. One person can't be distinguished from another. She sees them moving like a tide, a collective sigh, swaying and thrumming together, puddling light in their hair, on the tops of their cheeks, along the curves of their necks.

Up here, it's a cocoon. He's sitting in the chair and there's no one else. The noise and light from the main floor seep in, but the shadows huddle even thicker, the darkness deeper than the light is illuminating. Up here, she'll be hidden in plain sight. Somehow that thrills her.

The thing about detours is that they often initially take us farther away from where we want to go, but eventually we do arrive. We always arrive. She knows this. She likes scenery. She likes him.

As she walks across the span of floor, her dress slips from her body, a pile of sunset on plush carpet. She wears nothing underneath. He sits unmoving, gaze pulling her to him, until her knees touch his.

And then, the night shifts to fog because she can't quite remember. Nothing is clear. A kaleidoscope moving too quickly.

In the end, she knows this: He moves fast. He has a firm grasp that digs into her hips. He has nails that slide into her back and upper thighs, leaving strings of pink art rising from her skin. He has lips that are soft with teeth that are sharp. He has a cock full of need.

In the end she also knows this: She lets him have everything he wants. She wants it too.