Sitting in Eataly, drinking a glass of wine and smelling the fruitiness intermingled with the musty scents on my hands and face. We’ve just parted ways, but he has not left me. I am stalling before rejoining the world. I want to continue to lick him off my hand, the bread, my lips a little longer. I feel him so deep inside me it’s hard to breathe, hard to think. So many people moving all around me. But I feel utterly still. My whole world right now…watching… my own body, my own mind. I feel the chill and the dew on the glass, the air moving over my skin, the rise of my chest, the internal quiet, the fullness, my heavy, swollen cunt. How much do I love him? I could weep right now, just because he looked so happy, so well, so energized. When our eyes meet I cease to exist, when it is our lips, I drown. My food has arrived. it looks fabulous; bright colors and grill marks. I eat slow and drink deep. I can feel my hands on his chest… His collar bones. Have I told you that he is beautiful? He is… Extraordinarily so.