The Kiss


by Flying Solo

The first time he kissed her by the elevator in the hotel lobby, she trembled inside. Short of breath, a bolt of lightning pierced through her, head to toe, throwing her off balance.  She had to hold on to him.  She was 40 – hardly an age to be taken aback by a mere kiss, let alone experience an electric jolt. It was a loving and sweet kiss – not a passionate one. His lips brushed hers apart as he lazily sought to hold her surprised gaze. He held her lips in between his, and then, ever so gently, closed his mouth over hers; and willed her to close her eyes and to melt into the kiss, daringly, deftly, kindly. 

Time stood still.  It was 8 in the morning. They had just come back from a walk by the lake and had shared breakfast. The smell of coffee, the taste of the eggs still lingered in his mouth. She could stand there forever – paralyzed, at the mercy of this moment.  She broke off the kiss as blood rushed into her head – it was all too much. A hiss passed between their lips as she gasped for air.  A gentle moan escaped from her throat. Goosebumps sprang up on her arms and then on his; as if the currents running through her nerves jumped over space and landed on him, setting him ablaze. How do you do that? He asked.  She felt dizzy as her inside turned to jelly.  She sped into the elevator embarrassed, exhilarated, aghast and shocked all at the same time. 

It seemed a lifetime before the elevator doors closed and not before she caught a glimpse of him staring at her longingly, pleading to be asked to go up.  Her body was screaming yes – but her mind, oh her mind. The elevator shot up. She held on to the rails for dear life. Her ears were ringing – the blood rushing through every vein and artery. Fourteen floors seemed an eternity, a mad dash down the corridor, a frantic fiddle with the room key and she was inside her room. It was all a daze now, as shoes, socks and clothes flew off. She sprawled over the bed and now could feel her heartbeat reverberate through the mattress. Her whole body was shaking; bones rattling; her soul waking up.   Resurrection.

The beginnings – always so intense and so full of hope and promise.  Beginnings – so alluring, so innocent.  Beginnings – staring at the pool of a delicious romance, a mystery about to unfold.  Going in with feet is safe but, diving head first, so much more exhilarating.  The pool looked so deep, wide and ever so blue - inviting.  She was thirsty for the dive. She considered herself a good swimmer. She could take on this big pool. Yes.  The sparkle, the fresh water, the seduction of the challenge.  She had not sought it in this place - yet here she found herself – with the offering.  Jump – said the little girl inside.  You are alive - You can do it.  Go in deep.  And so she dove in on the promise of the kiss -  booseh.


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by shifteh (not verified) on

took me to a place where i have not been, for a long long time. It is sensual, perceptive, original, and tasty, like a great glass of wine...

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... refined sensibility!

by Princess on

An experience we all have come across at some point, beautifully told. Thank you!



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by Miny (not verified) on

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wow, you're a wonderful

by Mohammad1355 (not verified) on

wow, you're a wonderful writer. keep on...

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Dear Solo

by Nazy Kaviani on

What a beautiful piece of writing. I'm glad you considered writing more officially! You are brave as I said before. I am a wimp, so I love reading and writing about it more than trying it myself! Thanks for the joy!

persian westender

Kissing...vs..Jumping in

by persian westender on

Kissing...vs..Jumping in the pool.

Thats a good analogy! I wish i was a good swimmer!

Good writing.