Dementor

My emotional turmoil makes me a nervous wreck.

It destroys my libido, desensitises my nerve endings and ruins any possibility of relaxing into an orgasm.

I thought I would not be able to be intimate that weekend. That the extraneous circumstances would make it impossible. The jumble of my personal life, the physical exhaustion of the previous few weeks and the journey, the presence of other people in rooms above, below and adjoining.

As it transpired, it was the last weekend before I stopped the clock and restarted my future. Part of a series of days and weeks when I reached a nadir in terms of self-respect.

Ruf had done his best to rejuvenate me but I almost dreaded bedtime and the prospect of physical proximity in that context whilst, at the same time, my body craved the shelter of his arms around me. As the others went to bed, I felt the fear growing within me. Making my hands shake and my whole body tremble. I was frozen inside and the only choice was the warmth of the bed. He came back from the bathroom as I was removing my clothes and watched me. Standing still, his back leaning against the closed door, he just wanted to look at my breasts, my legs, my body.

It had been several weeks since he had last been able to do so. But I didn’t feel beautiful. Just scrawny, nervous and skittish. I climbed clumsily under the duvet and covered my nakedness away from his gaze.

He followed me in, took me in his arms and held me for an age. Soothed, stroked and petted me. Wrapped me up in his love until, finally, I was calm in his embrace and ready for his lips on mine.

His mouth sucked everything out of me. All the anxiety, sorrow, resentment, anger. Every destructive emotion just melted away like the reverse of a Dementor’s kiss. I was left warm and protected, almost numb. As if I was floating with the black clouds of my relief fluttering across my closed eyelids like flocks of migrating birds, totally released from the stress.

I became aware of him hard against my thigh but he made no move. Only whispered in my ear that he loved me and kissed me again. Long and deep until, like the most effective Expecto Patronum, the bad things had been magically driven away and I was safe… and ready.

The growing ferocity of his passion engulfing me as the tide of his lust overwhelmed the defensive dam of my inhibitions and his fingers liquefied my body’s desire. The little voice in my mind tried one last assault to halt the process but things were too far gone.

There was only his body… and mine.

Communicating in the way they know best.

Shutting out the nay-sayers and the doom mongers and revelling in pure animal magnetism. Joining together to achieve the ultimate in mutual release, with faces contorting in our attempts to hold back the usual verbal acknowledgement. In silence, we climbed the mountain and dropped over the edge.

And, in the aftermath, I felt myself smile for the first time in so many days.

Sometimes, it’s best just to shut up and let nature take its course.