She reads the words
and is glad that she is alone.
A blush suffuses her face and neck
her nipples are hard and urgent
beneath the silk that covers them.
She bites her lip
her toes curl involuntarily with desire.
She feels a tremble in her thighs
as arousal flows through her.
Who is this person
who writes such things.
Things that bring out of the shadows
all of her dark needs and wants.
She would never reveal
how one word led to two
so much more.
Led to such eloquently carnal imaginings.
Never would she confess…
or would she?
Photograph taken from Pinterest