trapped

It's funny how a darkened room filled with strangers can so quickly become the faded backdrop to a moment of such complete intimacy.

I counted the number of breaths it took between the meeting of our eyes and the first meager sampling of flesh. You pressed close, silver-fox eyes never leaving mine despite the inequities in height.

And then I watched the bright crimson of your lips part in surprise at the cool touch of something sharp and dangerous at the small of your back.

Your first mistake was coming so close. Your second was in trying to back away.

Four.

Four was the number of breaths it took to close the distance between us.

Three.

Three breaths for you to realize you were trapped between the point of a knife and my knowing smile.

Two.

The time it took for you to inch closer, motivated by the prickling tip of my knife. Your body settled nicely against me.

One.

One was all I gave you before I stole the rest away.