Words are magical in their own way. Words spoken with the female voice are not just magical, but sexy and oh-so-sensual as well.
“This is the story I had always meant to write, but never managed to pen.
“For lack of time, for want of inspiration, for need of commitment, the words in my head were never strung together into a better instrument, so that I may sing the many things swimming in the well of my soul.
“These words I now bring to life, for your sake, that you may read and understand that which I have felt inside…”
She smiled and flipped the page, her eyes skimming across the messy waves of my handwriting that lined each dog-eared sheet.
“What?” I couldn’t help but ask. The way she was grinning suggested that she saw something I had missed, a word out of line, a sentence out of tune, a paragraph out of order..
“Nothing,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She stepped closer to me, her hips swaying hypnotically to some invisible rhythm.
Moving aside, I invited her to sit next to me. She did so, handing the sheaf of papers in her hand to me.
After what seemed like an eternity of silence, she said, “Words.. are just a form of expression and description. We use them to verbalize what we can see, smell, touch, taste and hear.”
I put my arms about her, pressing my lips close to the back of her neck. She squirmed in my hold as I took in the intoxicating scent of her.
“Words were merely meant to be tools,” she continued unabated. “To ensure that we understand everyone else.”
“Your point being..?”
She flashed a mischievous, saucy grin my way. “Somewhere down the road since we invented words.. we’ve learned to weave the most wonderfully mesmerizing tapestries with them.
“Tapestries of wonder, of love, of joy, of every human emotion imaginable.. We’ve found a way to connect with other people using words in such a profound and intricate manner that, despite our different heritage and diverse backgrounds, works wonderfully because everybody can relate to these stories of human triumph and loss.”
My hands wandered around the front of her tee. The little peaks of her breasts cupped in my palms, eliciting a small gasp from her lips. Her reaction pleased me greatly.
She spoke on, somewhat breathlessly: “Yet, even as we connect and rediscover the grandeur of our shared pasts, we have also become adept with using words for wicked things.
“We pervert reason, hide insidious secrets and perpetuate half-truths and outright lies with the same adroitness and ease that we share our individual tales.
“Imagine all those people who died simply because an untruth was uttered, or a truth made known only partially,” she spoke even as she pushed my curious hands away.
“Imagine all the suffering we could have prevented if people paused for even a moment to reflect upon the words which had been spoken to them.”
“Wasn’t it an old philosopher who said that the pen is mightier than the sword?” I said, failing miserably to hide a cheeky smirk.
She slapped my wrists lightly, her lips pursed in a smirk of mock admonishment.
“All I’m saying is.. words are magical in their own way. Those wise in tongues can weave timeless fables that captivate the soul and make the heart yearn. I only wish I had such skill and grace with words.”
“All the more reason we should watch what we say to anyone else.”
She giggled, her laughter a little musical tinkle in the silence of this cool night. “Especially each other, you mean?”
“Sage advice indeed,” I chuckled. “But let’s drop that subject for now for something else. You see, I like to think of myself as a man of action as much as I am a man of words.”
Smiling broadly at me, she clambered over my lap, straddling me as I ran my hands down her back..