Seithe by Poppet Read Free Book Online

insignificant."
    Silence. If I wasn't touching him, I wouldn't know he was still here with me. I trace the map of his body with my fingertips. The hairs in his throat jump out, feeling disturbingly different. I depress his lips. Stubble not very long. Rough. So hard.
    "Your skin is smooth, your lips soft, stubble abrasive, brittle in hardness. Your hair feels unpleasant compared to the skin under my touch. But the hair on your head..."
    I tentatively push the tips of my fingers into his short hair. It's like fur. I smile at the thought. "It's your pelt. It's forgiving, easily moved, unlike stubble."
    He removes my hand and slips my ring finger into his mouth. Seductively running a tongue under it.
    I'm supersensitive, my body reacts on every sexual level it owns. "Warm. Slippery. It feels pornographic."
    "Tell me why you react differently to the temperatures and sensations."
    "One is intimate, the other cursory. They elicit completely different biological reactions."
    "Relax back."
    Oh god.
    Hands push me until I'm flat on my back. Supine, I feel so prone.
    "Do not be afraid. I will return shortly."
    "NO! Don't leave me!"
    I smell him coming closer this time. He has a unique scent attached to him. It's almost sirocco in nature. A dry warmth. It reminds me of hot days on the beach. I'd like to bask under his sun like this, forever.
    Lips on mine. So much pressure, but delicate. I hadn't realised kissing is a contradiction. How does the brain cope with all of these conflicting messages? He runs the tip of his tongue wetly inside my lower lip. Hmmm. I grip his arm tightly, not wanting him to abandon me.
    "I'll be back before you know I was gone."
    And inside the moment, the body hovering over mine, departs instantaneously.
    I'm mad. I've lost my marbles and they've scattered beyond accumulation. The lift doesn't go to the top because it's left the building. None of this is real. I am hallucinating because of that fucking purple H-bomb. Is this why everyone took drugs in the sixties? Because it totally warps reality. I would be scared to leave the house if this was my every day reality. I wonder how long before it wears off?
    He kisses me again. See! He was here all along! Just fucking with my mind.
    "That wasn't funny."
    "I'm not laughing."
    I smile more from relief than anything else.
    "Can you trust me?" Whispered enticingly into my ear.
    Well, I'm stuffed if I don't.
    "Yes."
    Something probes my lips.
    "Hold the tip of this in your fingertips and describe it to me."
    It's fairly rigid, slippery smooth. It feels waxy.
    "Waxy, smooth, with a pointed sharp tip."
    He takes it away and I feel it on my lip again. "Bite it."
    Carefully I nibble the tip of it off. It tastes like nothing in particular. It has a familiar scent emanating from it now.
    "More."
    I bite off more. As my teeth crush it, my throat closes. I can't breathe! Sitting up, a cough tickling out, scratchy. It bites. My mouth is burning, as if he threw acid into it. I spit it out in repulsion. I still can't breathe. I need water. Struggling against suffocation, I squeak out, in between choking, "Wa..ter!"
    "No."
    I squeal in the base of my throat. My eyes watering. My lips are burning so severely.
    "Please!"
    A bottle is placed into my hand, and desperately I begin gulping down cooling water. Just when I catch my breath and relief, the burning increases. But at least I can breathe now.
    "Hurts more now, doesn't it?"
    Nodding, I scold, "You fucker."
    "No, that's not how to describe it. Tell me. "
    "Extremely painful. Stinging, burning heat! Acidic. It makes my mouth feel scalded and raw. Sick bastard."
    His arms close around me; he's laughing.
    "Phoebe, you are nerve endings and chemical reactions. One burn is very different to another. Chilli burns, but it's a food we choose to eat."
    I aim blindly for his arm, slapping it with my hand as hard as I can. "Arse."
    "Suck this."
    And before I can object, he slips something that feels like cardboard into my mouth. I can't