The Deep


Leaning back in the chair so its front two legs lifted several inches off the uncarpeted floorboards, Meeko presented herself to me without shame. She flowered, and yet she was still a seed waiting to bud—a sapling yearning for its first rainfall—and every occasion she gave herself to me, I grew more and more convinced the time had come for me to finally see her in her truest form. Her feet were arched, and as I glided my tongue over her bean, I stroked and caressed her ankles with both of my thumbs. She had goosebumps. They pulsated beneath my touch, and although the sound of the traffic coming through the window grew louder by the minute, for the life of me I swore I heard the distant flutter of wind chimes. At first, I thought it was coming from somewhere outside, but the wetter Meeko became, the more it seemed that the sound of the wind chimes was coming from inside her belly. With the sun on my face and the warmth of her body causing me to break out in hives, I closed my eyes. The colours radiating from her shone a billion shades of orange and yellow. It was as if they were shimmering on the surface of an infinitely deep lake—a lake that teemed with life from leviathans to lactating mermaids and everything in between. Her colours tasted salty, somewhat oily, and as I foamed at the mouth, the world inside my head spun until it felt as though I were about to unravel. Balancing herself by grabbing hold of the ginger curls of my hair, she moved her hips to the beat of her heart. It was a beat like no other, and as I sucked and chewed on those fleshy lips of hers, the visions in my mind flowered the same as her body.

A Journal for Damned Lovers UK

A Journal for Damned Lovers US

Anthology UK / Anthology US

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