by Jennifer Weber
The kiss started in the still humid air just before his lips reached mine, which were already trembling. At first his soft mouth did not crush or crease my own mouth but simply cruised it, like a savvy shopper eying tempting wares. Then the pressure started and I felt a frisson of current originating in my pinky toes, using my hot-honey veins as migratory routes, finally ending in my brain, which cried for more. When I breathed his fertile scent my lungs knew what it was to experience the unique air of a prestigious address smack-dab in the center of paradise. It was at once prophecy and revelation, sting and poultice, advance and retreat. Dark lines appeared through every item on my to-do list; undone thus, loving him was all I had left to do.
Jennifer Weber is a court reporter occupying an empty nest in South Carolina. When she grows up she wants to be a writer.