The Kissing Scene

Fiction, Love

She smiled wide and threw her arms around him. “Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” asked Lester.

“For being who I knew you could be.” She let him go and raised her hand to his face, touching it gently. Lester closed his eyes, and her fingers felt like the velvet pedals of a purple flower brushing against his face.

Her hand fell away, and Lester opened his eyes. Without even thinking about it, he started to lean into her. It was like she had her own field of gravitational pull. As he gently, gradually moved closer, his head tilted to the side, and he again closed his eyes. Lilith leaned in, too, and he could feel her getting close to him. He heard her breath, short and delicate. His heart beat swiftly. Standing there, eyes closed, Lester thought he may never find her. The seconds floated through the air like hours. He felt lost in an endless space, falling forward with nothing to catch him. It seemed to take forever. But then, in a bright, brilliant moment, their lips met. They touched softly like the breeze touches white sheets hanging from a clothes line. Her lips were smooth and warm against his, and he thought that if he died again, this is the last thing he’d want to feel. Tenderly, deeply, they kissed like they might forget what each other’s lips felt like.

When they separated, Lester kept his eyes closed, but still grinned. “Your lips feel good,” he said. “Like cool water.”

Lilith smiled with lively eyes. “Then by all means,” she said, “come take a drink.”

And as happiness washed over him, he leaned in and drank up all that she was.


 

Every book has a kissing scene, right? Well, maybe not. But as of right now, this is the one in my book.  I know you’re not really familiar with the characters or anything, but I still thought this would be good to share. Of course, it’s subject to change, but I wanted to give you a little peek.

As always, your thoughts, comments and ideas are welcome.

Until we meet again.

End Kwote

I’m Writing a Book

Fiction

Yes. It’s true. I’m writing a book.

Wow. That’s actually kind of scary to say. Because now that I’m telling an audience of more than five people, it becomes infinitely more real.

That’s not a bad thing, though. I think it actually might be just what I need. Now you can all hold me accountable. Now I have to finish it. If I don’t, you’re all welcome to visit me at my home and poke me in the eyes or kick me in the shins or spit loogies in my coffee. And I really, really don’t want loogies in my coffee. So, looks like I’ll just have to finish it.

I’ll finish it. You can be sure of that. I’ve worked too damn long on it not to. But I felt it was time to actually say something about it.

Chapter 1

Fiction

Chapter 1

You have so much time. So much time to decide who you want to be. So much time to experience the world. So much time to live your life.

Lester Carling grew up with this idea. The idea that life’s defining characteristic was an abundance of time. He thought it was true because everyone, his parents, teachers, and friends, told him so.

But now, more than anything, he wanted it not to be.

So he killed himself.