Abandon hope all ye who enter here, for my mind is darkly labyrinthic

She waits.

The silent darkness is alive with the thrums,
pulses,
and beats of her heart.
Her mind races,
but tendrils of thought speed out of reach.

She sits,
Right where he told her.
Hands on lap,
Knees on floor,
Head bowed.

She listens
Straining ears to catch the tiniest sound:
But nothing.
Nothing envelops her in its cold embrace.

She quivers
Ever so slightly,
Hoping that slight movement didn’t defy.

Longing.
Hunger.
Passion.
Craving.
Pressure to touch/be touched/feel/be felt
Builds.

A hand,
Warm on her cold shoulder.
Firm, possessive, demanding and gripping.

Her lips open slightly
As the trembling moan tumbles forth.

He comes.

She is ready.