I was slipping my fingers into her hair. The movement was hungry. She was nervous and it made me shiver. I pressed hard on her scalp, but she just moved into the tips of my fingers in reply. My presence was needy and hers was lonely. The pace of her breath was a quick hum. We were whispering softly to one another. She gulped and I grinned. I could be a teacher. I know how to dwell when there is nothing to mention. I know how to need when there’s nothing to see. I gripped her wrist, feeling each solitary vein and artery. She moved closer, yet again, full of breathy whispers. I moved closer. My fourhead pressed against hers, her breath hot against my lips. It's this feeling that starts in my stomach and then creeps around to my back. Arching only slightly, her neck soft and smooth. She pulled me to her, killing me with her deep whisper, "Fuck me." -Amanda