Asrai Devin

Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.” ― Sylvia Plath

The Kiss


I am weary. The weary that comes from a long trip. Too much sitting and waiting.

Some of it shakes off when I exit the plane. He’s out there somewhere, waiting for me. I wonder if I can find a bathroom before I find him. I want to freshen up and change into the new red panties in my bag.

I fail to see a bathroom before familiar eyes find me. I have seen them in my dreams. When I close my eyes they are in my fantasies.

He steps close. Our hellos are soft. He’s so tall. I have to tip my head back to meet his tender gaze.

His hand cupped my jaw, his thumb brushing across my cheek. He moves closer. I pull back. “I’ve been traveling. I’m probably not—”

He cuts me off with his lips against mine.


His lips press mine apart. His tongue sweeping through my mouth. All at once my senses fill with him. It should be overwhelming, but it is perfectly divine. I grip his upper arms to keep from flying away. But instead he flies with me. He’s warm masculine spice, taking me away from the crowd, the weariness, the mundane.

Our tongues spin and dive. And I crash against him. Chest, belly, thighs. I feel the power in him surround me, it presses against me. And I submit to it, to him.

His lips pull away and I feel sticky. Sweat and desire coating me. I can’t let him go, I’m drunk on his lips. Dizzy on his scent. I’ll kneel before him, in front of everyone.

He takes a deep breath, as if inhaling me, then he breaks our embrace. He puts his arm around me while smoothly taking my suitcase and carry on bag.

Nothing is ever the same after that kiss.


Forever changed

By you

And yet still the


Girl you fell for

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