Temptation and Surrender

Temptation is a taut bow.  Temptation is a strung violin. Temptation is a high-wire.  Temptation is a knife's blade. Temptation is a red, ripe sheen on the tight skin of an apple, promising crisp, sweet relief.  Temptation is a finger sliding beneath the strap that had no finger-room until he pushed it through.  Temptation is hair pulled straight down, arching a back to a perfect curve.  Temptation is a little droplet upon the lips, waiting for the tongue.  Temptation is the gaze waiting for the blink.  Temptation is the push, waiting for the penetration.  Temptation is the pull, waiting for the release.  Temptation is grip on one wrist, waiting for the grip upon the second wrist.  Temptation is the raised crop, waiting for the swift-wishing cut.  Temptation is the whip raised, waiting for the whistled-air crack.  Temptation is the rip, waiting for the eyes to look upon the torn clothing, how much damage...

Temptation is a turned back, feeling the breath from behind.  Temptation is a favourite toy, handle-forward, waiting on the table.  Temptation is what I can smell.  Temptation is what I think it feels like.  Temptation is what I want it to feel like.  Temptation is making a big hole where I know I've never felt it.  Temptation is stupid with longing.  Temptation is the feeling of a strand of hair falling from my shoulder, grazing my lower back, and me mistaking it for your hand, and me groaning louder than I thought warranted such a simple, small thing.  Temptation is a clear picture, sharp edges, perfect clarity between all the lines.  Temptation is a blindfold, suddenly jerked a little too tightly.  Temptation is a voice in my ear, suddenly, when I thought there was nobody there.  Temptation is what I look like, standing in heels, my bra loosely strung from my fingertips.  Temptation is what I look like, standing in heels, wrists bound, my bra loosely strung from my fingertips.  Temptation is what I look like, standing in heels, wrists bound, lips parted, my bra loosely strung from my fingertips.  Temptation is wondering when my lips will feel the kiss.  And surrender is what I've just done, even though you aren't here.