“You paint your fingernails.”

“Yes, I do.”

“That’s rare for a man.”

“Yes; it is.” I said and kissed her again;
my lips connected
to her full-lipped smile.

“I’ve never done anything with a man
who’d painted his fingernails.”
Her eyes, cobalt, glimmered,
deep.

“Well, then, it’s quite obvious
it’s about time you started.”
I placed my hands,
which had been caressing her upper arms,
to her hips.

“You think so?” She said, that smile again,
our kisses again,
her mouth, full-lipped and heated,
mine thick-tongued and seeking.

Our eyes, open.
Mine, copper, smouldered.
Hers, cobalt, scintillated.

“Absolutely, you must.” And I began
unbuttoning her blouse, bottom to top.
Her smile grew only wider.

“I think you are strange.” She said,
as she bended her arms
back, letting the silk
whisper to the floor.

She wore no bra.
Her breasts were large size-B perfect,
lively and confident.

I kissed each erect nipple discreetly,
honored by them, dignitaries.

I said:
“I think you like me, very much.
I think you like my copper eyes,
I think you like my crooked smile,
I think you’ll like the barbell in my tongue,
and I think you like the silver polish
on the long nails of my fingertips.”
I kissed her heart, through the skin.

“It won’t matter in the dark,” She said.
She had been unbuttoning me,
and my shirt fell without a blush.
She began on the crocodile grin of my trousers,
which laughed all the way to the floor.

Now exposed I attended to her skirt,
which fell quickly, quietly,
confidently,
knowing where to go
and why to stay there.

“I won’t see your nails in the dark,” She said, naked.

“Oh, but it will matter, and oh but you will see.”
I smiled and bent to one knee,
My face a breath from her V.
“It will matter as much as every detail passing before you right now.”
I inhaled her halfshell of Venus deeply,
and smelled life, desire, communion; unity.
I stood and quivered,
my silver and blue nails pinched her hips.
She swayed them, lightly.

Her right hand closed
around my salute
and she shook me solidly;
a contract sealed.

I took her left hand in mine,
and kissed her like a delicacy.

She leaned back to stroke a switch,
and gave me a last moment of illumination.
“I’m turning out the light, my dear; prepare to disappear.”
With a click there became a sudden one thousand stars
clamoring above us to see,
her eyes, cobalt, gleaming.

“If I disappeared you’d be less than impressed;
I’d prefer to linger on your imagination.”

The darkness that swept in was as thick as our musk,
but not nearly as muggy.
We waited, hands held,
for our eyes to adjust.
Seventeen moments
and I kissed her again.
With hands to her cheeks I smiled,
and danced my fingers before her eyes.
“You’re glowing!” She breathed.

“I live to be unexpected,” I said,
waving my fingertips in the space between us.
It was a thin space, not much room,
so I placed my hands to her skin.
In the mostly dark I could tell her head
was watching my every move;
my fingertips traced
courses of light
from her hip to her shin,

from her knee to her elbow
my fingertips,
they lingered at her neck, and then
glided down her middle
to rest briefly
in her slippery hollow
before winking out within.

“I can’t see…your fingertips…anymore.”
She sighed.

I was glowing within her, deeply.

“I know, but as you said, it doesn’t matter in the dark;
as long as you can feel me.”