RANDOM WORD: STROP
Styling her hair at the vanity she watched him in the mirror. Working the soap into lather, in his shaving cup, he began to buff the lather onto his face with practiced fluidity. She watched in hypnotized fashion as he slid the blade across the strop to sharpen its glinting surface to an edge that could slice cleanly. Rising, as if under compulsion, she moved towards the bathroom pausing only to shed her robe in favor of his dress shirt that lay at the foot of their bed from last night's events.
With the ease of knowing the routine well he shifted his left arm and lifted her onto the sink to face him as she moved to retrieve the blade. Dipping the steel into the steaming basin of water she lifted his head and ran the blade down the side of his face removing the offending white substance and revealing his gloriously ageless face to her eyes. One stroke at a time she revealed her husband.
This intimate ritual was important to them both. His trust in her implicit and her precision in the act unmatched. When she had removed the last traces of lather from his face and neck she placed the blade on the counter and grasped the towel to pat his face dry.
"There you are." She jokingly spoke for the first time and his eyes slid open with lazy contentment as she came into focus.
"Fangs or blade?"
"Today I think the blade my dear. I'm feeling a little naughty." Her mischievous smile never failed to pull him in. Before he could reach for the blade she had grasped the handle and brought the sharp end forcefully into her palm.
The crimson began pouring down her arm and into the water staining it and the lather remnants pink. Although he salivated, he waited. Waited until she placed her hand at his mouth and then without breaking eye contact he drank. Drank from the woman he had loved for nearly five years, married a year ago, and hoped to soon convince to join him for eternity.
REVIEW: INTIMACY IS SO SEXY.