Sal held her grip, neither firm nor slack but just held it as one would hold a beating heart, listening to life throb, luxuriating in dominion as queen to slave . Leaning forward, naked curve on naked curve she bit Trev’s lobe, her long black hair falling as curtains on either side of his auditory orifices.

“Breathe. Just breathe.”

Trev sunk deeper into intoxicated clarity, a sensual landscape beyond the vial, beyond letters and art, beyond words or even images; bound not of leather and steel but of essences of body and mind unspeakable.

“Better,” whispered Sal, an aroma of lust on her long tongue as permissive hands and fingers began again to move with intent of pure unadulterated presentness.

Categories: Story, Trev, Sal