The kisses that started light and soft, just barely grazing salty skin as she pecks down my neck, fall harder on my exposed midriff since jumping over my black sports bra. Her red lips draw a path down the side of my waist, arcing inwards to my outie as she holds my hips tight in her large brown hands. Electricity follows faint ovals of Fenty Stunna lipstick left behind on my sweaty pale abdomen, raising tiny bumps on the surface as cool air conditioning rushes in to replace her warm breath. I only see tight black braids when I look down over the tiny mounds of my chest until she raises her head, flashing bright white teeth, smiling devilishly. Staring at me she drapes the long pink arrow of her tongue down and flicks the nub of my belly button; a preview of things to come. The vibrations shake up the nervous energy in my stomach like a jar of fireflies, their glow radiating warmth and anticipation from my core. Holding it out, she runs the tip along the trail of wispy hairs that lead into my black lululemons, dragging the heat down with it. I lift my hips off the bed to help her remove them and look up at the foreign ceiling.
Cecelia wasn't as confident when I first met her, disoriented jogging in our neighborhood. Brown cheeks that hung out of her white high-cut shorts stopped me dead as she consulted her phone, so I took out my earbuds and helped her make sense of the winding crescents and cul-de-sacs. She was my polar opposite: tall, fashionable, with dark, braided hair, perky, ample breasts, and the newest smartphone.
I told myself it was jealousy that made we watch her bouncing frame run until it was out of sight. I told myself it was fantasy that made me think of her when I closed my eyes, rubbing out a silent orgasm next to my snoring husband. I told myself it was curiosity that made me change my running schedule so I could run into her again and find out where she lived. I told myself it was kindness that made me bring over that welcome basket, hoping to be invited in.
