It wasn’t subtle, the change, and it could be felt.

It was primal, a shifting of energy that imbued each movement with intent. Poised over the table, she slid lower, back arching as she leaned across the top with her hands flat on the warm wood. She was unafraid. It was in her eyes, unwavering as they watched. She had poured herself into feline form, limber and vibrant. She was on the edge and she liked it.

When I saw it begin ebb in her eyes, I wanted to reawaken it by burying my hand in the back of her hair and pulling her body taunt. Let the sharp suddenness ground her, the uncompromising nature of my grip drive the animal back into the light. I wanted to make it hungry.

I wanted to cage her and watch her claw her way out. Put her into heat and let own needs burn through her inhibitions. I wanted the fire in her blood to leave her cleansed of everything but the purity of self. And when the demanding hold of my hands on her hips is enough to make her slip lose from the tight moorings of time and place, when she presses back against me instinctively –

Then, then I will know.

2 thoughts on “Caged”

  1. Fantastic, steamy, sensory as always. Your vignettes are like the Godivas I leave in the box to savor last; sweet, rare little luxuries that leave me simultaneously satisfied and wanting more.

    I read through most all of your archives I hadn’t partaken of yet with a lovely bottle of shirraz this weekend, I’m officially a fan.


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