Two Eyes Cenote nymph, then a virgin

for a woman wrought with a hardlined stature, a woman so puritanical and stoic and prude, she is quick to crumble.
feverish, agonized, starved; inexperienced, gentle, perhaps too much so. a kiss for the dark-tinged lips, a nip to the soft warm skin below her eyelids. a rawboned brunette forelimb, held, caressed. the pelt, draped now over the bony shoulders of the fellahin; they are connected, even if it is fake, even if it is only for this dwindling moment.
in eset, zaahira sees no one else. she wished to see no one but her ever again.
believe me when i tell you that you are beautiful, habibti, she chokes on her own words, a soft, preening note crooned. you do not have to be good to be beautiful.
the most deadly of things often are.