Today I’m feeling rather…slinky. Cat-like. Minxy. On the prowl and highly sensitive to changes in the air.

That, my dear friends, is what a damn good seeing to does to me. It lingers, and creeps over me the following day. Those ghosting memories of the night before that are so delicious to experience when you least expect it. Often turning up when thoughts of sensuality should be lying low. But up they crop and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. Heat flashes over me. My breath may catch ever-so-slightly and I usually will need to steady myself or catch a-hold of a table or wall to reduce giddiness.

It’s not until I get home that I can fully appreciate that sensuous slinking into the darker, warmer recesses of my memory and imagination mingled together. Like now, for instance.

As I write, there’s a niggling spark running through my body. It pools where the butterflies flutter in my stomach before shooting down into my legs, toes tingling – I feel it pulsing through my system, making me swallow hard, throat dry. My fingers itch over the keyboard and these words float out over the screen. My face seems like it is burning. I bring my hands to my face and my cheeks are hot (fingers chilled from the rest of the world that is running what seems like ten degrees cooler than I am).

I am restless in this descent.

My heart quickens and I want.

I want badly. I need. I yearn.

I think I’ll sink a little deeper.