It's been two bloody years since her scent and naloxone like persona have erupted in your mind; pyroclastic matter, spewing down the mountain of your continuous thoughts. She's just as beautiful as she was before, standing in her knee long trench coat. Not saying that it was just her passion for life is what woke you from living in a half awake state. But, how could you say no when she abruptly asked you to come over when you saw her out in the pouring rain. Now you sit, drying out in her living room, uncertain of what to think, what to feel. In that moment, pushing away the aromas of the past rationalized as sufficient. Yet we all know that the flood gates weren't going to hold up for much longer. She paces the room, engaging further in a story that you find hard to follow. Not because she's speaking at her usual 200 miles per hour rate, in which her hands are sprouting in all but four dimensions, but because you're holding back. Something you don't want to remotely pin point. You life's too changed. Nothing ever was the same when you were with her. But, you cannot seem to escape your thoughts.

You begin to question if the decision to walk away from her just over two years ago was the correct one. But, as if she were reading your mind, she stops for a moment and looks you directly in the eye. With a crease in her brow she saunters to the short lived cream coloured powder room behind her. In which she squirts a sufficient amount of moisturizer from the oversized container onto her hands, rubbing it up her tattooed forearms. She steps out and confidently strides closer to you, stopping just before the edge of your seat. She pulls her thick rimmed glasses off of her face and onto the coffee table to your left in one swift movement. The cat like eyeliner burns holes through you. You can't help but let out an airy gulp when she shows her teeth.

"Why did you invite me here?" you ask her, hesitating on each word.

She smirks when she knows how uncomfortable you are. Your accent came out there, moreso than usual. She knew exactly what you're thinking, although she was never the presumptuous type. "You know if I were trying to seduce you, "she leans in, "it would look a little like this," she breathes into your ear. Her perfume kilned your senses within seconds. "Close your eyes for me." You followed her command, seems like that never changed "Do you remember the first time you were with a woman?" she began, pausing because you both knew the rhetoric was for dramatic effect. She circles behind the chair as your eyes follow her every single move, "You felt like your naked soul was wrapped in a bundle of new unscented burgundy sheets. Egyptian cotton maybe… Maybe silk," she runs those smooth arms down your face. You can't help but close your eyes and lean into the touch. Egyptian cotton is what you think. Just as your mouth gapes, she pulls back. "Being human meant that you had to enumerate your sense of touch, with your hands," she faces you now, with the darkness evidently arousing in her irises. Your breath hitches again and again, "Over and over again, it made you smile. You were so full of greed, again and again. You couldn't stop." She turns, "Do you honestly remember when you last smiled?" You quickly nodded, internally praying this would end. She knew what she was doing and she of all things knew you were lying, "No, really smiled?" you clenched your jaws, nodding slowly up and down, not once opening your eyes. "I bet it was with her. Those fingertips collecting memories as you cartographed her face. Dopamine and serotonin flying everywhere in that immaculate brain of yours." You closed your eyes, held your breath and faltered into what she was saying. How could your fingertips forget, they would never forget. That last sentence was raw as her voice husked. You gasped for air when her smooth thumb gently grazed over your lips, "But we both as scientists know that animals use their lips to really sense and heighten that pleasure. Don't you remember when you couldn't stop running your fingers over her lips until you had to claim them as your own." Now she was running small patterns all over your arms and face. The moisturizer limited the friction between your skin. It was light as if it were never there. Your heart rate elevated and breathing was much harder than what you were trying to contain. When she knew you were vulnerable, she took the opportunity to straddle your waist, as you passionately elicited a guttural moan. Her arms now everywhere and nowhere at once. You had no idea what to even do. One of her dreads falls near your face. You zero in on it and couldn't take it anymore, two years of nothing was wasted. She pauses, hesitant to inch any closer, "but, I would never do any of that. Never to you of all people, Delphine," she flies off of your lap," smirking right back at you. You knew you never could get over her, no matter how hard you tried. There was absolutely no sense in denying it now. Standing up you blinked once as she did not budge an inch. Within milliseconds you pushed her into the wall behind her. Claiming back those succulent lips, those burgundy Egyptian cotton sheets your naked soul so dearly missed.