The poem behind a poetic story I’m working on bases on this and a series I wrote called Forbidden Chances. Will post those later in the day.
I watched his hands in anticipation
of where they soon would be
as he signed the receipt.
He looks at me, devilishly
then hands over to me the keys.
This room, we make home for the night
but as we cross the threshold
we know we’re trespassing.
We stand here, by the bed
staring at each other intensely.
One hand on your shoulder
and one around my waist.
One hand pulling you in closer
and your other, brushing the hair from my face.
For our lips to touch,
I can taste your want for me
as you breathe
I giggle at a slight moment of hesitancy
allowing it to fade away as we
fall into our bed of wrong decisions
and perfectly made sheets.
The contrast of our sin
against the purity of these white sheets
This time, these moments
were not ours to seize
but we are insistent on stealing.
So with each touch,
each perfectly placed kiss,
every shudder that runs my body,
and after every moan I release
embrace in our thievery.