drop the towel honey

Every Freaking year…. air conditioning out 96 on the sun, still 87 out at midnight… gah
I’m outta here.

Sweltering, the word itself was oppressive, hot, sultry, horrible, but somehow that didn’t even manage to cover it. Somehow airless, breathless, stifling, broiling, scorching, sizzling just did nothing to bring to bear the actual feel of this heat. Yes, we saw the news where it had said it was a heat wave, and yes as Murphy loved me so dearly of his flock that he never lost an opportunity to show me exactly what devotion he holds for me. Gods know that I never was one of those old southern ladies plied with talcum to the point they were pressed and powdered teacakes by the afternoon. I am certain that the gods had designed my people for the cold. So, this was very nearly hell on earth, 100 degrees in the shade, heat index pushing it into the 120s and there goes the manufactured cool air that I had come to rely on for life. I laid on my back, stripped down to a white tank top and a simple cotton pair of panties, literally trying to slow my heart to cool my body, the fan blowing past a frozen water balloon that only served to make the air feel like the heat wash coming from the oven when placing a cake on the baking rack. I know drama, drama, but every soul has that one place that the straw sticks.
I was sticky sweaty felt more like a brazed pork roast rather than human and there he goes Life himself with his god damned “Rise and shine. What a great run!” I rolled my eyes, I have made it readily clear that the only way I run is if something dangerous is chasing me and even then after about 100 yards I would make a deal with the psycho killer that I would stop if he made it quick. Those were regular days ON this day with his overly jolly trotting and motion I found myself literally nauseous,
“Good Morning?? Rise and shine?? Its moments like this darling that I think to myself HOW LUCKY DEAD SOULS ARE! Now back to Hades where you apparently belong.”
He laughed walking through the room on the way to the shower. If I were still living I would be watching, mouth watering as he walked while stripping for the shower, all I could do is roll to my stomach and try even harder to slow my heart and stop breathing. I had nearly drifted off to sleep when I felt that cold dripping water hit my back. I growl, yes, as I had said before had I been human I might have laughed, I might have enjoyed, but right now I was just grumpy. I roll to my side cocked up on my elbow. Oh what caught my eyes, took my breath, so apparently I was still a little bit human. There he stood wide shoulders broad chest dusted lightly with a manly fuzz. He shook his hair over me sprinkling again. He only wore a simple red towel bound around his hips, strong legs still dripping with cool water.
“I knew you couldn’t stay grouchy at me.” He leaned over me his body cool to the touch to set down a glass of Iced water.
He settled over me kissing my neck, the ice cube on his tongue causing my breath to shudder in my chest, it was shockingly cold I expected to see a trail of steam rise from my skin. “I suppose I won’t have to kill you, today.”
He kissed my lips stopping any other words. God, he could kiss any trouble away. “I have an Idea,” and without another word he pulled me from that hollow I had created in the bed and pushed me into his shower. I thought my heart was going to stop, I stood under the stream of water unable to move, shoulders hunkered. The noise coming from me was like a scream but not by expelling air but taking it in with great billows making the noise sound like a wahh. Wahh. wahh. “YOU son of a bitch,” I finally get out as he laughs holding the shower door closed, peeking over the top I saw his eyes how they went from taunting to interested in how exactly see through a white tank top got in cold water.
He pulled the door open letting his towel drop. “Oh my Honey, I had no idea.” That bastard one-sided smile was irritating and sexy. “Let me help you.” He pressed that warm body close to mine, the cold the warm I loved and hated every bit of each. He came in behind me, his hands naturally reaching around for my breasts, oh a perfect fit in his large hands. His thumbs slightly rough through the ribbing of my tank top across the very erect nipples. His lips sliding across the soft skin of my neck, causing me to make small Mewing noises. One minute ago I was cranky and mean and just wanted something to sulk about, but now, I was almost human and I was loving this.
His hands his lips soft and supple and the cool water after the shock had worn off was divine. I turned my head to lick and kiss his Adams apple, it bobbed as he swallowed. Then he spun me in his arms pressing my back to the shower wall the spray hitting us both on the side. He kissed my lips and hunkered pushing me higher on the wall, his muscled thigh finding its home wedged between my own, finally when we are eye to eye, his looking me over. He kisses me I tasted heaven on his lips I drank deeply my tongue lapping up the flavour.
He was delicious, god, did I want him. He kissed me long and deep I moved against him the friction doing delightful things where our bodies touched. He pulled away and watched a surge of electric passion wash over his features like an ocean wave.
His beautiful lips hung so close to mine as his hands slowly glided down my arms. He laced his fingers through mine, pulling them above my head kissing me again. His thigh moved deliciously thrilling me body and soul. A frenzy of butterflies tumble through my body. He holds both my hands now in his one large hand, dangling from his grasp. He begins to coax and caress and keep me bent sweetly deliciously, eagerly to his will. My pulse surges as his lips dance along the skin of my throat, I feel the reaction of my body as I try to move against him. He slides that free hand its fingers deliciously languishing taking its time to reach exactly where I wanted them, god he was the master of this languished torture. Time is the longest distance between two places, and it took him forever to cares and hold. It is my nature to call out prompting and tell him what I want, but I love being at his will and that is really a hard thing to admit, I am not one to relinquish control easily.
He lifts my chin with reverent fingertips, tilting my head back. Gently, pushing my hair from my forehead, tucking it behind my ear, letting his hand slowly softly caress down my neck. Finally, I look up into his wide exotic gorgeous green eyes, he peers down into mine… into my soul, his holding a particularly delicious intensity that changed his from a tranquil sea to a raging surf. As those orbs meet mine, desire burning already deep in mine. He bites his lip dipping in for another kiss. I beat him to it, biting his bottom lip and pulling him to me. I barely stop myself from devouring him whole. When I finally let go he leans in close letting his shaking, raspy breath tickle my face, caress my ear. He whispers his every wanting wish close and low, dirty thoughts and unholy things he wishes that skin on skin contact could cause, the delicious rumble of his rolling thunder voice adding to the evocative monologue. I feel him shiver as I become almost boneless in his hands. His long-lashed lids would flutter closed as he leans into me, needing more, wanting even more than that.
Ah, I sigh, laying again on that divot on the mattress, I feel the breeze kick up and listen as the rain starts falling on the tin roof, I smiled watching him dress wondering still how he can even fathom that necessity. Time itself slowed and I lamented how I love those long rainy afternoons. Those times when an hour isn’t an hour but an eternity dropped delightfully into your hands and magically you know exactly what to do with it. Watching Life deliciously perfect the line of his collar and the crease of the tucks to the tails of his shirt seemed pretty magical. I never wanted realism, I wanted magic. I write… why do I write, because life is pain, life is disappointment, fear, failure, it is completly unsatisfactory. I don’t want to be there, live there. I don’t lie, I don’t tell the exact truth either. I tell what should be, what very much could be, and if in a real universe exactly how it would be a perfect beautiful truth… I know it’s terrible, sinful even, but if it didn’t just go from the hot gates to nirvana I will happily be damned for it!

@peonies-and-poppies @littletesla, @sweetfairy1

The joy of baking

I mix and knead and then set the dough to rise in my chipped enamel bowl. My bench scraper portions the warm dough into 18 pieces. After rolling each piece into a snake-like shape, one end is dipped into a shallow bowl of water. A pinch and a fold at the juncture guarantees the two ends will lock together, a gesture so familiar over the years I can do it without looking. The rings of dough rise again under a clean dish towel and then are gently dropped into honey-sweetened, simmering water. After their brief bath, each side is dipped into seeds, blank spots created from where my fingers held them. Under a continuous trickle of water in my sink, I rinse my fingers and repeat the process. Sheet pans lined with crisp parchment paper and shimmering bagels go into the hot oven and bake until they’re brown and crisp. My little kitchen smells like heaven.  

A hot bagel is split. Its interior is soft and slightly sweet. Butter quickly melts on one half, cold cream cheese is clumsily spread on the other. I can’t wait. I stand at the kitchen sink and smile as I devour this beautiful food that I made.