▲ Dans le lit, le baiser, Henri de Toulouse Lautrec, 1892.
Blue eyes flashed hot, leaving every pink part of her flushed and tingling with invisible touches.
Smiles were promises; kisses delicate sweet wine, an erotic warmth she drank down. Her heart fell from a flying trapeze.
Later, their bodies asked rain scented midnight questions.
This is how it began. Why spoil the story by telling you how it ended?
This entry is part of Jack Rusher’s archive, originally published January 9th, 2014, in New York.