by: Yewbdar

I have made it a past time of studying all the pores in your face. And now, watching your breath slowly return back to normal, the beads of sweat settling, satiated, on your forehead… As I stare at your closed eyes which, just a few minutes ago, were looking down at me with crazed fervor and entitlement… as I gaze at your hands, the hands which freed my hair from its careful bun and played with its locks before scrunching it up in abandon… as I gawk at the muscles in your legs which supported my weight, which are now draped possessively over me…I realize this is the first time that I’ve made love to someone I am in love with… the kind of absolute love that is calm yet turbulent, tormenting yet forgiving, frenzied yet ordered. I am in new territory…

What is it about amarinNa? What is it about the words that make it so splendidly seductive? What makes me shrivel in ecstasy when you make love to me in amariNa? They are words I have heard before… phrases I’ve said before. But what it is about you that when you utter "yenE emebEt" in between torrid kisses that makes me want to be a little girl? What is it about your lips against my ears, softly telling me in amariNa what I’m doing to you… what is it about the way your voice and your grunts that make me want to give you the world? What is it about the way you caress me with words that makes me want to be anything you want me to be… do anything you want me to do? What is it about the way you say certain words that amplifies my excitement five and six fold… Heighten my awareness that I am, indeed, in new territory….

Is seduction dead? Are you the last seducer on earth? Or are we getting old? Gosh, I see these prepubescent boys and girls sparing so little to the imagination. But, I, too, am a new convert to the art of being seduced the old fashioned way. It was not long ago that I believed that ours was the new era of overt over-sexualization, and we the upholders of this asresh michew of our generation. Ahhh… the lost art of looking at each other from across the room… inching closer together.. creating sebeb to go to the restroom in hopes of running into each other… the first brush of hands… the fist ‘t’rm" of an accelerated heart acclimating to seduction… the fist knowing glance, the first yearning at the pit of one’s stomach… that ache… that wonderful, beautiful ache that lasts and lasts and lasts throughout the first date and way the first kiss… Is it all dead? I remember the first time I saw you… across a room, and everything changed. I remember walking down Bleeker Street … it raining, and your hands reaching out for mine… hesitantly at first. You protectively putting your arms on my shoulders and then parlaying your newfound strength to finally hold my waist. I felt so elated by your hesitation… the boyishness of your hesitation… gedelkeN. I remember praying, "please God, let him be real".

So, I see that love doesn’t complicate lust. The thought of you still pinching my behind when we’re well over the hump of life makes me fall madly in love with you over and over again… years from now, I still want to sneak you a kiss in a crowded room, and then sneak with you into a closet. I want you to keep chasing me around the bed before you capture me and throw me on it and say with fervor… "Tei biyesh alneber?"

I am restless. I reach out and kiss your lips with just enough pressure to wake you up. You stir slightly. I kiss you again, this time a little more firmly and with a little more purpose. You open your eyes just a little and smile when you sense my listlessness. But you pretend to ignore me, sigh in exaggerated exhaustion and turn around, murmuring "Bei esti dehna ederi". I see you’re not going to make this easy…

Oh no you don’t! I’m not that easily ignored…