I glance down at a drafted drawing of a woman in the presence of an artist.
“This concept!
This artwork!
It’s absolutely beautiful
It’s sensational
It made me feel things I cannot describe”
“When you finish can I keep it?
I’d like to hold onto it for a very long time”.
He smiles and nods as if to give it to me another day.
He leaves for the evening with a leather jacket dangling around his shoulder.
As I daydream about getting down to brass.
My eyes gaze at the bare wall in front of me.
Where his artwork could be placed just magnificently.
What will hold it up?
I wondered.
I lay down and begin imagining that I am a thumbtack.
His thumbtack.
Strange… I’m allowing these images of objectification to enter my mind.
But I have these feelings now.
Whereas I didn’t before.
Because he did not resist the other purposes I felt I had at the time.
Leading up to this moment
He never tried to make me dull.
And even now, I do not feel feeble.
I feel sharper than ever.
Sharp enough to be pushed into a wall.
Pushed as hard as he’d like.
Just to hold this concept tightly.
The next evening we kiss.
His arm grips the bottoms of my shoulders.
He arranges my legs around his back.
He lifts my weight into to another room.
I feel slight bruising beneath my skirt as I’m escorted to the area of his choice.
My thighs feel the pressure of his fingers.
Areas neglected of intimacy are none.
I expel all the air from my lungs and breathe in.
As I begin to notice that he has just pressed my back into the bare wall.
My breasts feel crushed beneath his chest.
His hand covers my mouth to enhance my focus.
He lifts me up higher to stabilize.
Between breaths I hear:
“You my dear,
are the woman in the drawing
and I will hold you here
for a very long time”.
He pushes further and further into me.
Further and further into me.
Further and further.
Further…
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/pel8i3/your_thumbtack