Two Eyes Cenote nymph, then a virgin

Time tracks slowly, like sand trickling through an hour glass as she’s caressed. She can feel Zaahira’s hunger, how dire it makes her. She watches dazedly as her elbow is lifted and stroked. She's called beautiful. Words whispered for her are not cruel, they are gentle; she is gentle.  Sounds in the grotto magnify, kisses that tap like footsteps on stone-

Toula had said, the fellahin can back away. She finds her legs subservient, will not be moved.

“I,” Her breath quivers the air. She despises how it sounds.

Eset wanted to feel beautiful; she wanted to hear she was desired. But more-

“I want to own myself,” some imperceptible feeling arises in her chest.