Vertigo

So close now. It feels like I’m being pushed to the edge of a cliff. About to look over. Experience the vertigo from dizzying heights. Except I want to go. I’m desperate to go. But I can’t go by myself. You need to push me. Higher. Higher we climb.

You’ve been leading me there. Coaxing me. Guiding me. Whispering to me. Talking to me. Leading me with your hand.

Now, you lead with your mouth. Tasting, touching, now hard and insistent . . . Sucking, inhaling. My hands claw at your head. Fingers scraping my own legs. You, pushing me closer, higher, closer. I’ve been here before tonight, many times. But this is the highest you have led me.

I feel the edge before I see it. Looking over, there is nothing below me. My stomach lurches, then I fall. Swept away by a wave that pulls me up, against gravity, then drops me suddenly. My insides feel like they are detached in my body, floating free. My only anchor to reality is your mouth, still hot on my wetness, flesh against flesh. Blood pounds in my ears as I drop, and I reach for you. Your hands catch mine, your mouth tight to me.

My chest feels like it is about to explode, like every tendon in my ribcage struggles to contain me. I expect to hit hard, but instead, feel like I’m swept underwater, peacefully. And when my body floats up, I expect to be gasping for breath. I break the surface tension, and the laughter bubbles forth unexpectedly. Uncontrollable laughter, from deep in my stomach. Relief and release. You look up at me, amused, but puzzled. And I laugh. A deep, satisfied, joyous laugh. Satisfaction in release.