the human need for warmth

as part of my self-care package i visit her every two weeks. yesterday, her touch seemed especially warm. the oils she used to smooth my twisted girdles smelled salty when mixed with my perspiration. her nervous shuffle curiously made me feel safe and yet slightly annoyed. it meant she cared about her performance, but i wanted quiet. her touch formidable,she longed to be perfect but fell short.lo que mas me gusto, that which i enjoyed most, was the warmth underneath the blanket and the single sheet. this time a heated blanket wrapped around my lower back like a baby oranghatan on her mother's back. it was hard to move once sedated by the warmth, dim light, and gypsy music. there i saw the real human need for warmth. we float in the deliciousness of warm sensations that lift the thinnest of hairs off our bodies. then the tingle begins in the tip of the pinky traveling north. we wonder why we seek the warmth of another, so we invite them in. drunk with passion our pupils widen. though she does not share her bed anymore, going is enough. the energy of her hands and the warmth it brings sustains her for the time being.