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Is It Hot in Here or Is It Just Me??

Sudden panic! What is burning--my skin or my clothes? Something is on fire...

What has caused this conflagration--my desire or your eyes running shamelessly over my pale skin? Everywhere your eyes come to rest the paleness reddens, swelling slightly as if to move toward the source of ignition. Everywhere your gaze brushes me lights up, emitting shimmering sparks that fly into the sky--little mimics of the stars...leaving first an icy sting, then a smoldering memory as they break loose from my skin and leap upward.

I try to breathe but I am choking on smoke. I try to carry on a conversation, demurely seated on the sofa between two strangers. All the people at this party, can they see how you've set my dress ablaze from the doorway? Can they hear the screaming of every functional smoke alarm on the block? Do they feel the frustration of the fire department in my lingerie as they try desperately to put out the flames by bringing more and more moisture to the greatest source of heat/ Do they notice the sudden rise in temperature in the room?

How can I sit here and pretend to listen politely to yet another story of yet another teething baby told by a woman I don't even know when there is the most splendid raven-haired devil...staring...igniting my clothing from across the room?

I am afraid that you'll come close and I'll explode from the sudden increase in amplitude. I am afraid that you'll turn away and the delirious destruction by desire will be sadly extinguished without having fully consumed me. The tension, the anticipation, is exquisitely unbearable... But you stand there, immobile but for your dark, laughing eyes--the wicked pyromaniac--enjoying the specter of the luminous inferno that you've created... unable to leave the scene of the crime...delighted by the sacrificial fire that I've built to you amid this crowded room.

We stay locked in the fiery coupling -- you, proud and mocking--me, clad in flames.

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