THE BATH: Erotica


I went to a club on a sunday and realised dance is sensual whether it’s by yourself or with another. 

For five hours I moved my hips, sliced my arms through the heated air and caught glimpses of sexual stares, and pocketed them for the next weeks. The club was enveloped with bodies, lapping each other up. One man at my side pulled his muscles through the space and grabbed my hips whenever the beat dropped. Another just stared at my legs as my trousers slid off and the dress was left alone, rising up my thighs. 

The club was burning. Demons were exposed by red lights and dark corners of hedonistic activity flooded everyone’s eye line. If you caught someone’s eye in the crowd there would be shared knowledge of erotic fulfillment. I don’t mean erotica in a penetrative way. Erotic fulfillment was a shared thrust of energy towards a shared sense of escapism from normal mundanities. We were being filled by sensory overloads and for the first time since Corona. 

My feet got weary at one point and I no longer had any dancing sweat left to secrete out of my pumping vessels. I took one of the watchers home and we created a whole other dance. He reminded me of an oak tree. Tall, majestic, and necessary. As I was biting on some pieces of apple he had cut for me, he worked on our next environments. Candles were brought into the bath as the hot water created steam that traveled into the kitchen and tickled my neck. The vinyl was played. His playlist selection was a perfect mixture of silence and tempo. He guided me into the bath. Firstly he turned my face away from him and untangled my dress, kissing my spine as each ribbon came undone and I was left naked. I turned around and did the same to him, kissing his collarbone and kneeling down to drop his trousers with my mouth. 

The bath was hot and the steam eased my dancing legs. We lay on top of one another and listened to the music and the lapping of water. He lay me on top of him with my knees squeezing into his waist. I held on tight and he pulled and pushed me into his pelvis. As the motion became more regular, motivated by the swinging tempo, I began to feel a rising sensation between my legs. The water glided around me like Poseidon’s horses were racing into me. I still had his two hands placed firmly on my bum. It was as if I was having sex with two people; the water and this gorgeous tree of a man. There was no penetration, just soft murmurations. If two tectonic plates are pushing towards one another, one dips and causes a sensation that repeats. Often creating a natural explosion that reverberates through oceans, through the land, and now through me and this tree of a man. 

It was the sweetest orgasm of my life. Baths are always necessary.

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