On the cusp…

She sat on her bed, thinking about him and all he had said. How his words made her heart pound, and excitement shiver through her veins. She loved this feeling, this excitement, the anticipation, the wonder of it all. She wondered if he felt it too and if so, did he welcome it?

She was torn between the desire she felt, her awakening feelings and her fear. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to open herself up to the vulnerability that was inevitable when caring for someone. Vulnerability grew exponentially with the depth of that caring or love.

But she was tired of being alone. Tired of the deadness of her existence. Maybe she could feel just a little bit, just enough so she would feel alive again and not damn her soul to hell if he ever hurt her, intentionally or unintentionally.

She sat with her back to her headboard. Her knees drawn up with her arms wrapped around her legs. She bowed her head, placing her forehead upon her knees, wishing beyond forever that he would be the one. The one who would never let her walk away. The one who would… Who would what? She asked herself. How could anyone prove their undying love? How could anyone promise forever when there was no forever? Wasn’t every day an unknown?

Tears slipped down her cheeks. Tears she should have shed a hundred years ago for the little girl who had sat alone in the dark of her room wishing someone, anyone would love her unconditionally. Or for someone who would just hold her hand and tell her those three little words.

Now as an adult, when she heard the words, they carried no weight. She knew he hadn’t said the words, maybe never would, and maybe this would never head there but what he was asking was for her to trust him, to open herself to him. She knew she couldn’t do that without becoming deeply involved with him emotionally. Did he even remotely understand that about her? Is that what he wanted?

She sighed wondering what she would do. Being alone wasn’t difficult. Being lonely, was. Being independent wasn’t a problem. Having no one to depend upon, was. Being strong wasn’t bad. Not having someone to lean on when she was weak, was. Trusting others wasn’t bad. Not being able to trust herself, was.

All of these were true about her. About who she was. She shuddered thinking about her own betrayal to herself. How could she even consider what he said, when she knew all this about herself and had no idea how to change? She knew she couldn’t change any of the others until she learned to trust herself and she had no idea how to do that.

She stood up and undressed until she stood naked. She walked to the mirror that stood before her leaning against the wall. She looked at herself.

For the past few years she had watched the changes of age taking over her body. With each change she felt herself become more and more distant from the person she was inside. Each wrinkle, each age spot, each noticeable sag in her skin, she felt a blemish occur on her inner being. She had allowed it to occur. In some ways welcoming it. If she felt less about herself then she could shelter herself from the possibility of further pain. This was how she betrayed herself. This was how she summoned the demon, the darkness that swept through her and kept her from living.

Part of her searched for life, for love, while the other part of her shrank away from it inside. Today, she had felt her whole being come alive and she felt the horrible beast of fear floating beneath the surface ready to pounce and devour this new awakening.

Would she ever learn to trust herself again? Trust herself enough to allow the beast of fear to be consumed?

She thought about the man today, how he had taken the plunge. He saw her need. He surprised her with his response. She felt her heart flip and beat double time. Then she felt that all too familiar tingle of excitement rush through her body. She reveled in it. Each word was like a soft touch upon her skin, an embrace from his heart, a softly spoken promise of a kiss upon her lips.

Then the whispers of doubt started. Was he toying with her? Was he saying these things just to get what he wanted? Had she allowed herself to be drawn in by pretty words and a ruthless heart?

What would happen if she divulged all her secret thoughts to him? Would he grow angry? Would he use it to manipulate her? Or would he finally be the one who understood that trust came only from earning it and with time? If so, what would he do with that knowledge? He had done nothing to make her question his motives. And god help her, she never wanted to compare other men to the last man in her life, but what had happened she could never allow to let happen again. He had used her, manipulated her with words. He had been like a parasite draining her dry of everything she had.

Words meant little to her these days. People could say anything. All she could do was watch and learn what his actions told her about him. She could no longer trust her instincts about people.

She felt a shock surge through her mind. The image that had appeared when she thought about trusting her instincts. It wasn’t that she couldn’t trust her instincts, it was that she needed to listen to her instincts. She realized now, she had completely ignored her instincts about the other man, the one who had manipulated her. The one who had used her. Not only had her instincts screamed at her in almost every email she received from him but the very first time she had lain eyes upon him, her first thought had been, “oh my god, what have you done?” Then she had talked herself into opening the door and letting him in by telling herself, “If you are serious about change, then here is your chance. If not, then, don’t open the door.”

Oh she had been very serious about wanting to change. Her whole life depended upon it. She had been on the cusp of giving it all up, calling it quits. Finding an end to it all, when she heard, “you have two choices, either end it, or change.” She opted for change.

She still opted for change.

It was time to trust herself. Trust her instincts.

She stood in front of the mirror, closed her eyes, and remembered his words. “From now on my hands and eyes are your hands and fingers. Let them dance upon you. Let them ignite your beautiful fire.”

She let her hands and fingers dance upon her body. Feeling his caress. Feeling his eyes devouring her. Her body grew warm. Heated from within. Moisture pooling between her thighs. Her breathing grew deep with arousal, thinking of him looking at her as she touched herself. Then her watching him as he touched her. Seeking out her secret places. She moaned wishing she could feel his lips upon her, drinking her in. Whispering his words of seduction. Words that would leave her panting, aching for more.

With her eyes still closed, she moved to the bed. Lying down on her back, spreading her legs, giving herself over to the dominance of his words, and the submission of her body. Her mind would soon follow. She trembled at the thought of her total submission to him. It would come in time. For now, this would have to do. Her hands were his hands. Her fingers, his fingers. His eyes always devouring her.

She smiled at the image of him by the side of her bed, watching her. Watching her fingers squeeze and twist her nipples while the fingers of her other hand slid between her wet lips, sliding in deep then out again to rub her ever aching clit. God how she wished he was really here so she could feel his actual hands upon her skin, and between her legs.

But then, she wanted so much more than just his hands and his eyes devouring her.


About Kate Spyder

I'm a creative individual finding her way in her writing. I enjoy expressing my deep thoughts through poetry and stories. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoy writing them.
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