A couple weeks ago, Mark Kerstetter wrote a #fridayflash called "Perched." In it, he wrote a line "...he loved her with every fiber of his tired old soul." I couldn't stop thinking about that line--how Mark chose "soul" rather than "being." Subtle, but inspirational. Here's my (finally!) new #fridayflash, and I also incorporated this weeks 3WW prompts.
He tapped on her bedroom door. After months of pursuit, Penelope had invited John to her bed. He took it as a sign that she was finally over her disappearing ex.
John turned the knob after her husky come in. Her diaphanous sheet covered just enough to give a hint of propriety; bare arms and legs glowed ephemeral in the flickering candlelight. Dark spots pooled on the bed, suggesting blood, but Penelope's inviting smile along with the rose-scented air erased his momentary unease. Lust propelled him forward. Rose petals fluttered to the floor.
"I've wait—," John cleared the huskiness from his voice, "I've waited so long for this, for you."
"Me too," Penelope whispered. Her voice sounded calm, but candlelight bounced off the perspiration sheen on her forehead. He kissed her forehead, combed his fingers through the thick cords of her hair. He marveled at her translucent skin, her fluttering eyelashes, her shallow breaths.
He glided his hand across the sheet, felt her nipples harden under the silky fabric. She unbuttoned his shirt, traced the line of hair to his navel. Like a seam, she whispered. He slid the sheet, revealing the swell of her breasts, his eyes hungry for what his fingers already tasted. She pulled the sheet until the hem touched her collar bone, intensifying his need. He wanted to rip the fabric shrouding her body, touch his skin to her skin, but her lip quivered, her body trembled.
John leaned closer, about to say it's okay if you want to wait, but all he heard was his own grunt. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him closer, teased him by brushing her lips against his. The sheet chafed against his chest, but her tongue distracted him. She licked a trail to his earlobe.
"Tell me how much you love me." Her breathy words heated his ear canal. He felt her pulse in her temple. "Tell me."
"I love you so much—"
"I love you more than life itself. I love you with every fiber of my being."
"Do you mean it? Really, truly mean it? I need you."
"Yes I mean it. I'm all yours."
She shifted, flipped them so he was under her, his back against the bed. She straddled him, her thighs vice-grips against his hips. Penelope leaned close. The sheet molded against voluptuous form, defying gravity. "Thank you," she said, studying his eyes. The force of her gaze mesmerized him. Lethargy seeped into his body. She shook her head.
Her hair snapped the air, a thousand whips cracking before each lashed at John, securing his ankles, his wrists, his whole body immobile. The ties that bind he thought, then felt an insane urge to giggle.
"I can see them! Each and every fiber of your being. I need them, you know." She straightened, extending her hands in front of him. Each fingernail ended in a sharp point. With her index finger, she tapped at the soft dip in his collar bone. He gasped at the sudden puncture-pain, screamed from the sensation—the tugging of a tube out of the base of his throat.
"Got one!" She held a long iridescent string. She deftly looped it from her hand to her elbow, until she held a long coil, which she laid carefully on the bed. "This is the fabric of my life."
Penelope then touched her sheet. The thin covering slithered off her chest, revealing—nothing. Instead of breasts, a stomach, and hips John saw a shimmer, opaque air between the legs squeezing his body and the shoulders hovering. She touched the end of the coiled fiber to the top of her thigh, to where her non-existent crotch somehow rested on John's pubic bone. John screamed.
She traced around both his nipples, let her fingernails glide down the center of his chest, slicing the hair-seam down his stomach to his navel. John's screams echoed in his mind as Penelope tugged, her fingers racing to weave the fibers she extracted from his body into her body. Pale skin emerged, filling the blank space.
"Almost done. One last fiber and I'll be ready for his return." John slurred your ex? but felt his mind unravel. As sensation ceased, Penelope stood, radiant and whole.