One Warm Spring Night

Sometimes I wonder what he would do if I walked into his room and said, "Fuck me." But my curiosity is not strong enough to actually do it.

If I were no longer a maiden, tonight's lovemaking would be sweet and sad, slow and beautiful. Or maybe it would just be a languishing in bed with a man in the sort of atmosphere my room currently holds. Incense burning on the windowsill, candles on the desk and dresser, the desk lamp on in the corner and dimmed, the red chile lights giving off their soft scarlet glow, sensual music caressing the ears, the taste of rich fudge on my tongue, the words of Apuleius' Golden Ass lilting through my brain.

But I savor this mood alone.