Red Writing Hood: The Kiss

Prompt: Let's get all steamy up in here and write about sex. But you know us. There's a twist. You can't write about the act. I don't want to read about any heaving bosoms or girded manhood (please tell me someone else giggled besides me). This is based on a dream I had. A really, really, happy dream.


He was standing by the door, bare chested, when I walked out of the bathroom stall.

I have been known to be inattentive to my surroundings, but in retrospect, I would have noticed if anyone had come into the Ladies' room while I was in the stall, because the door creaks. Somehow, he got there without making a sound.

Of this I was certain: he was waiting for me.

I looked up, into his face, so I could stop staring at his perfect abs and how his taut skin disappeared into his pants.

My body reacted viscerally. For the first time I understood what the romance novels meant by their use of the word "lusted".

My Ladies' Room visitor was big, broad shouldered, solid looking, the top of his head nearly touching the ceiling.

Cropped hair so dark that it reflected a blue sheen in the fluorescent lighting.

A jawline carved from stone, dusted with the beginnings of stubble.

Eyes the green of a forest nested between high cheekbones fixed on me with what I can only describe as hunger.

Hunger?

I had time to blink, my mouth slightly agape.

Then this strange, stunning man was holding my face in his huge hands and his lips were on mine.

A sigh escaped him, as if he had been waiting his entire life just to kiss me.

What the heck is a girl to do in these sorts of situations, when a gorgeous, half naked man kisses you?

I kissed him back, of course.

I shivered with intensity of his apparent passion for me. All coherent thought poured out of my head. Goosebumps flowed over my skin, immediately followed by a tingling heat. My legs seemed to lose the power to keep me standing. He pulled me into a tight embrace, lifting me so that my feet no longer touched the floor.

I wanted more. I tried to melt into him, so the kiss would never end.

But it did, dammit.

I remember making a sound of frustration as he pulled away. I was suddenly back on my unsteady feet and he was backing up. Swaying, I touched my lips, staring at my mystery man.

"You are mine," he whispered, smiling. And then he vanished.

No Kiss For Mama

I am not a touchy-feely kind of person. I'm not a hugger and I'm not generally a cuddler, either. I'm a "you sit on your side of the couch, I'll sit on my side" kind of a person. It's nothing personal; I think I just have some tactile defensiveness going on. My mother is worse than me--she practically jumps out of her skin whenever someone hugs her. I do feel very 'fingernails on tin roof' about being touched, and while I may not show it, it does raise my stress level. When my sensory overloads, I become defensive. Then I don't want to be touched or talked to or even looked at because I feel like I will explode.

But I am trying to be more huggy for my son. I didn't get to hold him much while he was in the NICU, but as soon as it was safe, my boy was in my arms. Because I'm not a touchy-feely type, I don't want that for my child. I don't want him to feel that I don't love him just because I'm not as huggy as other mothers. I want him to feel comfortable appropriately touching others people, either by hugging, handshakes, etc. So when I play with Zane we do a lot of hands-on activities, such as wrestling, tag, and hide. Zane likes to hang upside down, and I hold his legs up. It's good for him and good for me to get over my own hang-up.

Every night before he goes to bed, I ask Zane for a kiss. Just a quick smooch on the cheek or forehead, traditionally a way that mothers everywhere offer a blessing to keep away the bad dreams. Lately, Zane has told me "no kiss". This upsets me a bit, since I feel it's my sacred duty to keep the bad dreams away. So I try at least three times while he is awake to get him to let me kiss him goodnight.

"No kiss, Mama." My heart cracks a little, but I let my little man go off to dreamland sans kiss. But I do worry about bad dreams keeping my little boy from optimal sleep. So, after Zane is asleep, I sneak in and plant a kiss on his forehead and whisper "sweet dreams". If I could fit in that toddler bed, I would curl myself around him like a dragon, to protect and defend his dreams. Even when he is awake and far away from me.