I stand above you lying stretched

across the bed on your stomach,
your face turned away from me.

I click off shots with my phone,
your dark curls a curtain flowing

over brown shoulders, hiding
your looks. The light bounces

around you, off your sheen,
your lithe form unsheathed

for me, your luminous shapes
I want to plunge into, I would

bite down on if you’d let me.
I sink to my knees on that plush

hotel mattress to kiss the tender
place where thigh meets cheek,

lick a particular path up your side.
Was your hand on my breast

or mine on yours? Our hands
between each other’s thighs,

your fingers strum as you draw
thrumming notes from me.

I cry out in delight and surprise
as your touch gently prises me

open and lays my life bare.
Sounds I’ve never let out before

ricochet around the room and I ask
in awe what did you just do to me?
*
I think of us later walking

through the restaurant,
my open palm flat on your

lower back guiding you.
You notice the woman

at the next table when
she sees our hand-holding

beside the sangria glasses,
and does she hear our

conversation too salty
for soft ears? We were only

talking about writing and dating
but what writing! What dating!
*
I think of after lunch

back at the hotel again
we pad along the hushed

cushy hallway, my hand
roaming up your top

as the lift door encloses
us for precious minutes

while we steal kisses.
I think of you steeping

our tea in the afterglow,
your bare ass distracting

me. We swap our twin
chocolate bunnies and bite

into them, sweetening
the salt on our tongues

licked from each other’s
flesh, our folds and buds.