Passion in Black and White
by Maria Williams
Like dark molten honey caressing her tongue
and soul food for taste buds addicted to caffeine
Coffee has its own excitation
The book has lost its charm
The fault lies entirely with the tree outside this cafe
To its majestic being she gazes yet again
Intoxicating her mind with the magic it casts
Its sacred shades of green offers sanctuary - cocoons her
A light breeze rustles leaves that seem to whisper
enticing words articulating something in an archaic tongue
Escapism into her fantasy world comes effortlessly
A disposition for being alone - solitude her sacred space
Interrupted suddenly by a dog barking -
The momentary moment of peace shattered
snaps her back to reality
Well at least the tree still offers her solace
Till the comforting feeling dissipates as a strange awareness dawns
She is being watched
Smouldering eyes so black boring through her cuts her to the core
A feeling of having experienced this de`ja` vu moment mystifies
Most disconcerting is this almost pleasurable sensation
Embarrassed and puzzled
she pulls her wrap protectively around her
Shielding her from eyes that linger
To cover her shyness she stares down at her book
Then to the TV on the wall
Startled she observes it has morphed into an old movie screen
Static flashes across an old Hollywood Classic rerun
Most bewildering - she does a double take - Unbelievable
The actors in black and white
Are her… And … this stranger
Unable to tear her eyes away from the screen she watches
in utter fascination - this person who sits across the table from her
Is the leading man in the movie
He… She...They
Incredulously are in the throes of a passionate love scene?
She staring shamelessly into his eyes
Welcoming his wandering hands?
He thrusts his tongue into her mouth eliciting a drawn out sigh
that intensifies into a sonorous moan arousing his demands
What is happening here?
Like a finely tuned instrument he plays her - her resonance - his pleasure
His sole aim to pluck her strings evoking the sweetest sounds
A musician exerting the right pressure to produce a high note
of pure exhilaration must know how to use his fingers
To locate the true locus of ardour
Questing fingers slip under her short skirt
A sharp intake of breath as they run the length of skin
in search of excellence to acclaim his prized opus
through the essence of his masterpiece and the high ecstatic notes
Only he can achieve
And Boy! - Does he know how!
Raw intense undulating pleasure like waves over waves
Wash over her - a nostalgic fragrance of bygone days linger
But logic interrupts fantasy with a mentation
They have already experienced this exhilaration
From a past life?
Lovers that have lived in each other?
A rare phenomenal - no words needed
As he saunters over to her table - she smiles…
by Maria Williams
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