Hotel Bliss Guest Blog

AND THEN THERE WERE TWO - Chapter Four - The Taste of Tingles

This is the fourth chapter of a serialized true story of a girl, her man, and the female lover he introduced her to. Missed the first chapters in the story? AND THEN THERE WERE TWO: Chapter One, Chapter Two and Chapter Three.

I have a tendency to forget the endings of things…books, movies, TV shows. This is a strange inherited trait from my mother. On one level, I think it is a trick of the mind so that I can re-visit things time and again which I love or find moving and still experience an element of surprise. But also, I have learned that for as much as my analytical brain determines so much of my day to day existence that when I become involved with something driven by or experienced through the heart and body, it all resonates in a sensory realm. I can’t quote poetry or passages of a play or half the time remember the author of a favorite book not because of a lack of care, quite the opposite; because whatever it is has shifted my emotions around leaving an imprint on my heart.

The same is true with people. Certain specific details remain but after a meaningful exchange, I am left not with what travels through the concrete mind but rather the sensations and emotions carried, held close and dear within in my body. While my past experiences were varied and absolutely always from my heart, I knew I was entering into a different space. This romance, this exchange, this path, would continue beyond the immediate opportunity of the present evening. In spite of the true totality of love I felt for Louis in every dark and light cavern within my being…I had a life, even if small or brief, a life none-the-less to live with this woman.

For as much as Gemma and I were a sparking roller coaster of word-play and conversation when she joined Louis and I for dinner — or while sitting on the wicker bench of Marcus’ garden — or even with Marcus when he arrived home that night — as soon as the bedroom door closed behind me, words lost their place. There simply wasn’t room for them. Only the sounds of an old house settling in for the night, the wind tickling leaves outside, and the whisper of clothes slipping from our bodies floated around the room.

When I think of that first night with Gemma, it comes in flashes much like a succession of cut-aways in a film. When I stop for a moment, I can still smell her skin, taste the last of the red wine on her tongue, or feel the trail of tingles the entire length of my spine left by her fingers. My right cheek will still glow with the warmth from her inner thigh. The nape of my neck shivers at the flash of her palm slowly gliding along my back until her fingers playfully curled themselves around locks of my hair. Goosebumps prick my flesh with the memory my belly carries of Gemma’s eyelashes fluttering across my skin as she sprinkled kisses over my tummy…

Our rhythm moved us through the hours that night in true grace. Women are bold, unafraid, do not shy away from and seem to inherently understand the joy and thrill found in slowness. This is not to say that a fierce, quick taking of the body doesn’t have an important place within the scheme of things- of course it does. But, with her body, Gemma listened to mine and we took our time to understand that conversation, a conversation that grew more excited and intense with each new discovery, each new taste. Ours was not a goal motivated experience. The passion, the desire was deepened by the willingness to explore and sink below the waves in order to exist in the roaring quiet of how I, Violet, and she, Gemma, were waking up the other’s beating body.

Waterloo appeared before me and I climbed out of the car. Even though it was only 10am, I needed a nap and Louis, Louis, Louis… would be home from his business trip the next day, weakening my knees with a kiss of tingles all his own.

XOXO
V.
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