You move about the house doing chores, humming as you go to and fro. Summer Saturday and the windows are all open, drapes billowing in and out as casual breezes wander through the house along with the random noises of the neighborhood. It is as if summer herself is breathing a contented sigh as she moves from home to home peaking in.
Loud music from the basement overflows up into the first floor and out into the yard. The sound of random weights comes and goes, clanking against each other, banging on the floor. The rapid fire thuds of a punching bag soon follow. All these sounds are familiar of course. They are the sounds of our regular weekend routine.
Down you come with another load of laundry. My eyes track your passage by. Unknown to you, today a walk to the laundry room is the doe wandering by the panthers den. Our eyes meet as you reemerge. I am across the room; chest heaving and muscles tense, catching my breath from a recent bout with the weights. I motion for you to come to me.
Thinking I have a quick question or something to tell you come near. It is only when you come close that you finally catch the look in my eyes and suddenly you realize what is happening. That familiar feeling of shrinking sets in. You know I will never hurt you, but that does not stop the gut reaction, that feeling of being prey to a dominant creature. I step forward closing the gap between us. You can feel the heat emanating from my bare flesh. You think you can actually feel my heartbeat and wonder if it's just in your head. The scent of male exertion is in the air, the familiar scent of sweat and metal. You feel my tenseness, see it in my jaw line, can almost hear it pumping through my veins. I have been working out particularly hard today. It may be that I have something from work pressing on my mind or it may just be that I'm trying to burn of excess energy. What ever the source was you can see the energy has transferred from desire to push my body to the desire of sexual lust. You were the catalyst, soon to be the recipient.
My eyes rake over your body and my gaze drags, like rough fingers, back up your flesh to your own eyes. I say nothing. No words will be spoken between us during this act. My eyes simply and silently tell you to get ready to be taken without much regard for your own thoughts on the matter.
Maybe it was the sundress, maybe it was the way your hair is hastily pulled back into the hair band, maybe it was the clothes basket on your hip as you came by. Something in your presence today has drawn a primal reaction from me. You have the allure of the country girl on the farm, the pioneer's wife working outside the cabin in the hot summer sun, the peasant girl in the master's workshop... a woman working hard by her man's side, also gritty with sweat herself from the day's labor and exposure to the elements. A recalling of the time when we were as hunter gatherers and I would take you in the open field, in the forest, right here on the hard earth, anywhere so long as you are beneath me, your beauty and body mine to devour.
Only we are here, in this basement. The hard earth will be this dirty workout bench, but it is the same. You are my woman and I am pulling your clothes down. Understanding my need you help me with your pliable acceptance. Merely moving a shoulder here, a hip there to smooth the corners where your clothes catch. You passively help this ape of a man who is impatiently and roughly yanking your clothes down to the floor. You hear a snap here, a tear there, but you do not care. You are already starting to float. You cannot help but fall into your roll, to feel your body readying itself for the loving abuse that is about to come. Your sex is already wet, your hips opening up, your senses tuning in to what I may want or need of you. This reaction was encoded into your genes a hundred thousand years ago and no thought is needed to understand or honor it.
