RoseSpells's blog
I breathe deeply, getting his attention. I can see his mind working through his furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. He's trying to guess my next move. His pupils move under closed lids.
I smile as I match my breathing with his. Gently, slowly, subtlety. There's a rhythm and rhyme between our breaths; it flows from the bottom of our lungs to the edges of our mouths. I take the lead of our dance, prolonging each instance of inhalation.
He follows, whether he's aware of it or not.We lie in silence, a chorus of desires and urges hanging in the air. I hold my breath for a half second, noting that he too has stopped. Before he takes notice, I let the air escape, and he follows suit.We follow this pattern for several minutes: me matching his breathing, slowing it down, holding it for a moment, before continuing to match his breathing again.
Suddenly, I'm interrupted by another sigh, this one of defeat. Trance has claimed its victim once again.
