🔊 Listen to this recording:

Somehow, when she said it, it didn’t seem the least bit corny:

“Look into my eyes.”

It was hard to stop ogling her luscious lips. Just the thought of kissing her was… but then you obeyed, and saw her gaze, like molten steel, and gasped.

She smiled at your gasp, and it was as though she sucked in the breath, sucked it in so you could never get it back. Something vital had leapt the distance between you and her, like an electric charge, between your eyes and those eyes.

She was so close to you, now. Something strange tickled your brain about that closeness, but layers of thick, rigid cable chained your thoughts, soldered by her hot-metal gaze. You couldn’t understand the words she was saying, even though you felt your head nodding.

She was moving even closer to you, so close you could fantasize about those lips touching, tasting yours.

Tasting.

You wanted to be tasted, somehow. Being tasted by her was suddenly the most wonderful, most erotic, most important thing in the world, more important than breathing. You tried to remember to breathe. You exhaled again, heart pounding, short of breath. She sucked it right out of you, along the current that bound your eyes to hers, like iron filings helplessly trailing in the wake of a magnet.

She was so, so close, and something was so, so wrong, and you would have wished your head would clear enough so you could tell what, but you couldn’t remember how to wish for a clear head, or why you’d want to. Not when her fingers were tracing your jawline down to your throat, not when her perfect lips had parted, the tip of her tongue tracing her lower lip without leaving a trace of moisture. Two little stalactites, pearl-white, seeming so out of place in the lush, beckoning blackness of her mouth.

The tip of her nose brushed your cheek first, and then her face slid along yours… which was strange, because her eyes still floated in the air before you; brilliant vortices, blinding, like the arc-welder they told you never, ever to look at in shop class, not even with your welding goggles in place. You were seeing the world through welding goggles, everything dark and muddy except those piercing hurricane eyes, devouring time and space and everything else, so hungry…

She was so, so hungry. You could feel the hunger like her long, delicate fingers running down your spine, wrapping around your heart, tugging ever more urgently at your breath. And it occurred to you what the little alarm bell in your heavy, hazy head had been trying to tell you, realized it when her lips finally pressed against yours, and it was like kissing marble.

She was so close to you, closer than anyone but a lover had ever been, yet she radiated no heat at all. While you burned incendiary with need, all her passion, all her hunger, rolled over you cold as the ocean on a stormy day.

And you were drowning.