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The Hand
Posted by The Red Devil
on
Monday, September 22, 2008
in
Writings
She dropped her pencil unintentionally. The nimbleness of her fingers and its capacity to grasp things are highly debatable. Perhaps her fingers aren't meant for holding pencils - perhaps her fingers were just meant to be extensions of her body for him to touch.
He bent down to pick up her pencil, which until now, she hasn't noticed that she dropped. And there, under the desk, in plain and tempting view, was her hand. He stayed there, battling with himself if he was to give in and dare to touch it. Whoever said that it's weakness that makes people succumb to temptation cannot be more wrong. It takes a certain strength and will power to truly give in to certain temptation.
He moved closer to the inviting and painfully seductive hand, gathering and mustering up enough courage as possible. He could smell her, the sweet and sharp scent of her lotion - like flowers, tea and spices. He was close now that he could see the moons of her fingernails. It was like gazing at tiny diamonds, glistening and inviting him to graze it with his fingertips.
He sucked in the static air around him, trying to do it silently as he was afraid that his breath might alert her of his presence. He didn't want that, at least not yet. He lifted his own hand and slowly reached for her palm. fingertips ready and poised. Slowly, he brushed the tips of her fingers with his own, moving upwards, slowly lingering on the creases that her fingers make.
If she noticed, she didn't let him know. She stayed still, as if giving him permission to continue his task. His fingers continue exploring, slow like honey moving to her palm. Once there, he allowed himself to daringly trace circles on her skin. There, he followed the lines that lead up to her wrist.
He moved close, letting his breath rest on her skin and as a final coup de grace, he plants a soft stolen kiss on her fingers and breathes into it like he were breathing life.
He then stands up and gives her the blessed pencil. "You dropped this."
She looks at him and says her gratitude and promptly drops the pencil again.
He bent down to pick up her pencil, which until now, she hasn't noticed that she dropped. And there, under the desk, in plain and tempting view, was her hand. He stayed there, battling with himself if he was to give in and dare to touch it. Whoever said that it's weakness that makes people succumb to temptation cannot be more wrong. It takes a certain strength and will power to truly give in to certain temptation.
He moved closer to the inviting and painfully seductive hand, gathering and mustering up enough courage as possible. He could smell her, the sweet and sharp scent of her lotion - like flowers, tea and spices. He was close now that he could see the moons of her fingernails. It was like gazing at tiny diamonds, glistening and inviting him to graze it with his fingertips.
He sucked in the static air around him, trying to do it silently as he was afraid that his breath might alert her of his presence. He didn't want that, at least not yet. He lifted his own hand and slowly reached for her palm. fingertips ready and poised. Slowly, he brushed the tips of her fingers with his own, moving upwards, slowly lingering on the creases that her fingers make.
If she noticed, she didn't let him know. She stayed still, as if giving him permission to continue his task. His fingers continue exploring, slow like honey moving to her palm. Once there, he allowed himself to daringly trace circles on her skin. There, he followed the lines that lead up to her wrist.
He moved close, letting his breath rest on her skin and as a final coup de grace, he plants a soft stolen kiss on her fingers and breathes into it like he were breathing life.
He then stands up and gives her the blessed pencil. "You dropped this."
She looks at him and says her gratitude and promptly drops the pencil again.
