Lupita, Part One

I could feel my ruddy cheeks beneath the scruff of facial hair beginning to burn moist with need as I carefully watched her play, pouting lower lip twinkling with Southern summer heat. Bead by bead, sweat eased down the easy slope of her small breasts, and her toes were curling trails of absentmindedness in the soggy dirt she sat splayed across, elbow deep in mud and brown flesh of legs tight and smooth. She was flushed from head to toe, and strands from waves of unattended hair were loosening themselves to tangle in her abnormally long curls of eyelashes, my disintegration was near. I watched her and she knew, she knew more than perhaps even I could comprehend, that she and she alone was the sole impetus of my demise.

She looked up at me and I saw the recognition cross her features for the barest and briefest of moments, and I stood there in the doorway frozen, tray of prepared sodas motionless upon my palm as her eyes latched onto my vulnerable stance mid-longing. The patio threshold was a frigid stiff realm of packed tight tension layered across certain secretive, knowing exchanges, I should have left instantaneously and let those seconds slide away by their own time frame, instead I was stuck here like a doe in the headlights of the finest pickup truck glare, eyes fixated on those pores oozing voluptuous yet girlish sexuality.

She did not avert her gaze as she grabbed the sweating glass and gulped its contents in less than a pair of seconds, and I watched every swelling movement and gentle heave of the ball of her throat, the creamy planes of skin rolling like heat waves.

The ice clinked and jangled in what seemed like a deafening manner as she roughly set the cup back down on the plastic. She glared at me defiantly, beads of perspiration running like bared legs sensually and abruptly down the tender lines of skin that wrapped her in such
pliant yet tight
coating.
My voice caught slightly as I tried to say her name.

The air was heavy, humid, fluid like boiling water music, and inch by inch she was melting with it, hovering on a cloud of the thick smoke of my incensed arousal.