Naked beside him I stood.
Bent over the table. Half my face covered by hair, the other pressed to the polished wooden surface.
A kiss or three to my neck, but not my mouth.
A sharp-nailed finger rubbed my dry button - just for a moment or two.
The sound of his zipper, hollow in my ears.
Without checking down below, his member plunged into my dry depths.
A few minutes in, my back covered with his shirt - a receptacle for his genetic history.
Still no kiss, still no thought of me.
Silent, solitary tear spilt from my eye.
A week ago today.