There was a condom wrapper right there on the floor. As I knelt beside the bed, ready to take you in my mouth, I noticed it by my knee. I imagined what had played out between you and this other girl. When, how, which way, had she made noise? Did she put her mouth on you like I am doing right now? Was it hot and wet and slow? DId she know how you like it? Did you let her look you in the eye while she had her lips wrapped around you?
Did her back arch when you pressed into her, did you kiss her between the shoulder blades with such affection too? Did you grab her hair like you do mine and pull her into your kiss? Did you smell her with such fervour and did you stroke her face lovingly afterwards? Did you roll her over and place your arm around her belly and hold her close while you both drifted away?
Did you laugh and moan, did you have a great time? Was it greater than this? Do you withhold affection from her too? Or can you give it all to her? (Don’t) tell me. I (don’t) want to know.
This is a story I’m reading – I don’t know the ending, but I occupy the spaces on the pages. I visit the locations where the characters frequent.There are shadows and sometimes physical evidence of the scenes that I’m not invited into. I guess it’s the same for her.