What else but the wind changes so?
When we had first met it had not been physical but rather our rendezvous had been scheduled without our knowledge. You see, life has a certain way of weaving its threads and one cannot have certainty when the leaves, after all, do not stay green all year.
Her tall figure could put many men off, and it may turn others on because perhaps they connect physical stature with some dominance and they may enjoy that. I, however, was indifferent when that fateful night came and I found her kneeling down before me in a dream.
Or was it I who was kneeling?
You see, I don't recall the 'power dynamic' because that's not even remotely something that I ponder. How strong can 'strong' be if it requires its opposite 'weak' to exist?
And how weak is 'weak' really if it holds up its partner 'strong'?
You see, a funny little thing happened that first night. We both seemed to possess the light and the dark, not because we were switching positions or playing a game, but because when you see a lightbulb what you really see is the waves pulsing. The peak and trough are one. Her moans are both sound and the lack of sound.
I really did meet her though, months ago, and since then distance had been made between our worldly locations and in that space a line had been drawn.
Now, like a guitar string plucked between two points, my late nights played her moan in my ear and I found myself aroused and ejaculating completely without intention and without resorting to touching myself.
I'm sure you'd agree that takes a lot of training and practice, right?
Wrong.
