Scintillectually Yours

I have this song stuck in my head. Sarah Bareilles’ Many the Miles. It has been my ringtone for my best friend but now it plays out like the soundtrack to my life as I listen to her breathe.

The phone is pinned between my ear and the stack of pillows beneath my head. The light is out and I feel a bit of sensory deprivation. Every nerve ending is focused between my legs. The wetness that has built up during the hours of conversation between us. Flashbacks that take me instantly to a time when we were young and foolish and not ready to be together because then…then we’d have fucked things up as surely as we fucked each other so very well.

Now, I imagine her strong hands, calloused from woodworking, manual labor that balances out the nuances of her brilliance. The endless creativity that pours forth from her like the juices I know run in rivulets down her slim thighs. Those hands, her hands…the hands that I have watched so many times, drawing…writing…touching my face. my hair. my neck. Those hands that I now imagine have replaced my own. A poor substitute but they will have to do.

Her whispered wishes to be inside me, to urge me inside myself as though she were truly there (and she is) elicit a low groan where there had been whimpers of wanting. She catches her breath. She breathes out my name. A sigh. A moan. My name.

I am panting. cursing the miles between us. My fingers at work in place of hers at work in place of mine. We cling to the rhythm of each other’s breath and build a crescendo together. Not long. not long. I beseech her now, now, now. NOW. And I hear her gasp and groan and grasp at the connection between us as we come, hard, fast, furious. Frustrated in our aloneness even as we are (together).

My post-coital throaty giggle pulls forth another happy sigh from within her. We talk of airfare and time and place and (together). I feel her as surely as if she were beside me, curled into me, holding me through the night and into the day and I know that her thoughts are upon me. (she loves me) The years past have melted away. The years ahead seem effortless and full of promise. And now (just for now) we trap those phones between our ears and our pillows and we breathe. Just breathe.