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Tuesday, September 20, 2011

His eyes






He was different than the others. Not impeccably handsome, sandy blonde hair, simple complexion, a lean build & only a hint of the cockiness the other boys reeked of. Just enough to hide the sweet, sensitive guy he really was. But all of that made no difference, not to her. To her, his eyes are what mattered. The lucid tranquil blue with sharp lightning strikes of icy white that could see right past her painted smile and straight to her soul. With one look he could make her stomach flutter with a thousand excited butterflies while simultaneously invoking the chilly goosebumps of her nervousness. Not to mention that when paired with sweet sultriness of his voice, his eyes were able to talk her into anything. Like sneaking out past dark, a delicious first kiss... or, not unlike her current situation, out of her clothes. As she sat there surrounded by nothing but bed sheets she felt vulnerable and afraid. When he emerged from the bathroom in a towel with water dripping from his brow her breath caught in her throat. Then he smiled with those eyes and all her fears evaporated along with any of her good sense. As he made his way to her side she could smell the soap on his skin.... his delicious skin. She still feel its warmth against hers, it's silky smoothness under her hands in between her teeth. The memory lingering just long enough for him to see the lust still mulling in her gaze, & turn the power of those blue eyes on her once more. He leaned over the bed placing his hand on the side of her head, right behind her ear, so that his fingers tangled in her hair reminding her of its own showered dampness. The cold drips that found their way down her bare back again made her gasp right as his lips found hers. She wanted to pull back, to steal a second and collect her thoughts, but she couldn't break the gaze from those eyes. He watched her while he kissed her again and again. Deeply, passionately, fervently... knowingly searching with fingertips to unravel her from the security of her sheets. Watching while she willingly gave in to her desires. Desires that were matched only by his hunger for her. She knew the silent promises of love were false, but she would deal with that pain later. Right now, he was different from the others. Right now, she was his...
his eyes told her so.



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For those of you confused, I've joined in on this weeks "memoir prompt" over at

This is the first time I've joined in, & I have to say that it was definitely a new experience.
This was what the prompt said:
"Creative non-fiction does more than report events; it draws you into the writer’s experience and allows you to live memories and emotions along with the author. Descriptive language is at the heart of that side-along living. How you as a writer convey sensory information will decide how engaged your reader becomes.

For this week’s memoir prompt, we’re going to let narrative take a backseat. Choose a moment from your personal history and mine it for sensory detail. Describe it to us in rich, evocative details. Let us breath the air, hear the heartbeat, the songs, feel the fabric and the touch of that moment."

I had actually gotten the idea for my initial writing from the 
"Red Riding Hood - Heartbreak" 
prompt they had, but as I was writing my story took to it's own interpretation of the memory, & I felt the "heartbreak" isn't as obvious to anyone but me. Instead of heartbreak, the passion takes front seat.  This memoir was the outcome.


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