"No," I corrected him. "This is Say Say Something. It's entirely improvised; it's very..."
I look at him just as the first drum beats sound.
A build-up - along with the drums.
The word hangs there in thin air. The instant the violin joins it, he has me. His mouth pressing up against mine, my fingers hurriedly fumbling, trying to unbutton his shirt. It can't come off fast enough.
I cascade backwards onto the floor, like my body itself is a glisseo. Off comes my T-shirt, my bra, my belt. He pulls my jeans down and I kick like the kickdrum, trying to get them off faster. He laughs at my squirming body and pulls down my pants. They slide off easily.
Like the slide of my bow. Only I'm not playing any instruments. James are.
I don't see him undressing. I'm too busy giggling and losing myself in the music and the madness and the moment. But the instant I feel it tap against my clit, I feel myself getting slickeningly wetter than I'd imagined, the anticipation of what is coming being the only stimulus I need.
He slides carefully into me as a cymbal crash hits. One, two, three seconds pass, and I feel my inner walls moulding around his shape inside me. He's moving, but he doesn't need to. I have him inside, and I have the music and as everything envelops me (although I, too, am enveloping him), I know that everything will be all right.
"Say Say Something," he whispers.
A grin unfurls on my face, as I press a finger to his mouth.
"There's no need."
As an entry for Charlie Powell's competition on the theme of giving something up - in this case, restraint.
Also inspired by this piece by James. Written entirely in 05:42, the length of the piece.