Chapter 19
He crosses the threshold and a profound wordless communication passes between us.
He stands over me, so close that I can see him even through the cloth.
His eyes lock onto mine and for a moment he is very still.
Then he takes me by the wrist and pulls me to him abruptly and holds me from behind.
He moves my hair aside with the back of his hand and brings his lips to my neck.
He holds me close as he kisses me. I feel it resonate through my body.
He moves up, planting soft kisses on my ear, jaw, and cheek.
I spin around to face him. His eyes are full of knowing, soft and focused as a pure light beam.
His arms wrap around my back and he draws me to him, then our lips meet.
Slow at first, then deep and lingering. I squeeze strands of his hair between my fingertips.
He draws me into a tight embrace and my heels lift off the ground. My body fills with air.
Had I never come here, had I chosen not to come inside this house, I would have gone my whole life without knowing this feeling. That is the final thought that passes through my mind before it folds into itself.
He slides off my chemise and casts it aside.
He lays me down on the ground and runs a gentle hand over my skin.
The flames shimmer and flicker like a constellation of stars.
I smile, laugh, as he whispers secrets into my ears, and I hear his voice.
I feel the chalky lines on my back, warm and slick.
Slick with something else, too, just beginning, hovering in the periphery of my awareness, and no more.
He is powerful. His grip on my body is firm and sure of itself.
His strong hands, which I secretly coveted from afar, I now bring to my lips.
He could be the reptilian beast devouring me, shivering, making me sigh.
Whispering: What you want is not love, but destruction.
No matter what happens from here on, know that this feeling is real.
This feeling is true. All else is false. This is what you must return to.
We are rising. Above us there is no ceiling, around us there are no walls, no boundaries to give form or shape to our surroundings. We have no past or names, just this. We are particles of light and vibrating sound waves and darkness. I’m rising.
I am at the center of the pentagram, vast, and my hair is wet. The floor is slick and metallic. Even when he’s not talking I hear his voice. I disappear inside of it. There is no I, only him, and it feels good. He pulses deep within my blood.
Lumps of my hair are sticking together. Sticking to my shoulders and arms. My back and the backs of my arms are wet. He draws me up to his lap and I straddle him.
There is never a moment when I pull down the blindfold.
I simply notice the red on the floor, at the edge of my vision, at the outer perimeter of my awareness.
I don’t care. I don’t stop. I don’t stop when I register shifting figures in the distance, shadows moving, or the dangling hand beyond the flames.
The fire burns bright and exquisite. Time slows to a crawl, stretches taut into a space of utter stillness, stops, then crawls again, with no end in sight.