It was the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Like an ember flaring amid August pine, the heat sealed her fate and opened her lips. Who knew a kiss could burn? Tequila and a wedge of lime followed by a shot of moonshine, quick and too smooth for her untried appetites, the world spun around her axis.
Then she asked, “When can we do that, again?”
He smiled–such a smile–with lips, teeth and the tip of his tongue… a warm-up of sorts, choral prelude to the best interludes she would ever know.
He called her his muse, and she named him her maestro.
*Flash fiction in response to this week’s Discover Challenge.*