lines

My dress is full length, in soft, black jersey, with generous straps across the shoulders highlighting a deep v from between my breasts to my throat, with the same slice opening between my shoulder blades. With my chest unbound a strap will readily fall off a shoulder to allow one heavy orb free. I am lying full stretch along my sofa, wrapped in fabric. He lies on top of me, naked, his silver head on a covered breast, his hand cradling the other, bare. His right arm is deep within the skirts, the fabric hooked up to my hip.

We make stripes, this man and i, with pale flesh laid over blackness laid on dark leather, the flicking light of the television screen dancing on my exposed leg and his flexed back as we melt together into night.