‘X’ is for X marks the spot… – a new snippet of flash fiction for today’s Blogging from A to Z Challenge.
X Marks the Spot
“X marks the spot.”
“What spot?” I said.
“The spot on your body that obsesses me.”
He took my finger and placed on the back of my neck, on the vertebra at its base.
“Tilt your head forward.”
I did, letting my hand fall away.
“That’s it. That makes it jut out. A little sharp angle where your neck ends and your back begins. X marks the spot.”
He traced an ‘X’ with his finger on the bony protuberance and sighed.
“But then there’s Y.”
“No, Y marks the spot.”
“The other spot on your body that obsesses me.”
He took my finger and placed it on the freckle that nestles on my rib cage, snug beneath the side of my right breast.
“This is the place. The place I dream about kissing in the night.”
I felt the small bump of the freckle with my finger.
“Go ahead,” I said.
I moved my hand to make way for his lips and his tawny head bent forward. I leaned back and sighed.
“But of course, you know there’s Z, too.”
“Z marks the spot,” I said.
“You’ve got the hang of it.”
He didn’t speak. He took my finger and held it to the small concave area at the top of my inner thigh, the left one, where my skin is softest.
“That side,” I said, moving my finger across to the other thigh, “or this?”
He considered for a moment and then moved my finger back.
“Oh, that. Most definitely.”
He laid his cheek against the spot and his breath skimmed across the folds of my cunt. Lighter than a kiss, far more devastating. I fought for control but my body belonged to him, the X, Y and Z of it.
Later, when we lay side by side, arms entwined and tangled across chests, I whispered in his ear.
“I have some favourite places of my own.”
“Tell me,” he said.
“I have to start with A,” I said. “A marks the spot.”
I took hold of his finger…