My pink silk shirt.  I was dressed and ready.  Your eyes told me you were ready but for something else.  I knew what that meant.  You lay there needing me.   I took off my blazer and then,  as if for the first time, I realize how delicate my pink silk shirt felt.

The power of the textile.  The seduction of those silky fibers that created more anticipation than skin on skin ever could.

The fabric molded itself to you.  A cuddle of smooth and soft fabric caressing your delicate skin.  My hair, now falling below my shoulders,  freshly washed and dried, softly swayed in rhythm with the pink silk shirt.

 

We were both mesmerized.

Music mood:  The Cure “Prayers for rain”

Neurally yours,

the moth xo