Today I awoke with Elsa on my mind. All I possessed of her was the fleeting memory of her silhouette and countenance, for in truth, I knew nothing about her. I only recognized her name because the other day I overheard a stranger shout it.
—Elsa! —exclaimed a man I didn't bother to glance at. I only had eyes for her.
I noticed her coral-pale skin and her sharp features; I spotted a tiny mole near her right eye. Her limbs were slender yet toned; she possessed the frame of a model. I observed her through my prescription lenses; something captured my attention, even though she was just another girl from the neighborhood. They walked away together, side by side, with no apparent ties.
I had been unattached for years, not due to misfortune with women, but because I was hesitant, yet certain of my tastes: I craved the genuine. And Elsa embodied that. She was authentic, a woman with a slender waist, radiant skin, and that peculiar mark on her face that punctuated her expressive gaze. That is what I perceived.
I worked at the local bank, at the downtown branch. While I was entering data into the financial network, I summoned the next person. A woman with a dull expression but a mole on her cheek approached; Elsa flashed through my mind at that moment, and I couldn't banish her from my head while I assisted the client. I wondered if Elsa was lighthearted. What would her voice sound like? Timid? Would her laughter be muffled or wild? I couldn't stop obsessing over her. I had never spoken to her; I suppose that’s how one truly falls in love, through a spark of fascination.
That same morning, rising with her in my thoughts between my pillow and sheets, I noticed I had an erection; I was lubricated. I delved into my memory and recalled dreaming of her. I envisioned her knocking at my apartment door, wearing a crimson dress so tight it looked like a vivid wound in the hallway, accompanied by satiny black stockings, heels, and her hair perfectly straight. She bore that beauty mark exactly where I had first seen it.
She gazed at me, asking: —I know you were watching me in the street—. I swallowed hard, overcome by shame. She took my hand and entered without invitation. —Take me to your bed —she commanded. After stepping inside, I turned the key; although I lived alone, I felt a pang of modesty at the thought of being seen. She was a stranger for whom I felt a primal ache. I was shy, but I was well aware of my carnal impulse—it was disorderly. I began to salivate. Elsa looked at me, taken aback. —Do I daunt you? —she asked. —No one daunts me —I countered.
I tasted her mouth, and it was exactly as I had imagined: velvet, plush, and moist. I wondered if her other labia would possess the same symmetry. She gripped my shirt, clutching my neck, and remarked: —I can see you are intense—, as she whimpered softly. She felt my fingers against her edges. They were damp, thick folds, much like the ones I had already kissed.
I pulled her close. I felt her ample chest despite her petite and slender frame. Elsa was exquisite; her eyes shimmered in the shadows. I tried to remain a gentleman, but craving was a language I didn't know how to whisper. I discarded the rules of etiquette and pinned her to the bed with force. The sound of the fabric tearing signaled the start of the chaos. I kissed her fiercely and she matched my fervor. I expected a struggle, but there was none; it was the same hunger she felt in her mouth and I felt between my legs.
I loosened my belt. Elsa slid my trousers down. —Stay still for a second —she whispered, bringing her face to my anatomy. I felt the humidity of her soft touch against my sex. I couldn't restrain myself; I cast my eyes toward the ceiling and pulled her close with urgency. She coughed, yet she was smiling. Then I kissed her without inhibition. I arranged the pillows so she could watch as I moved down her abdomen, inch by inch, until I reached her core just as she had done with me. She was drenched in her own essence; it tasted of honey, and I have a fondness for honey.
I heard her cry out several times. She pulled my face hard toward her thighs and pleaded: —Yes! Yes! Yes! —repeatedly. Then, I lifted her legs and drove into her all at once. Elsa shrieked, begging me to be gentle. The second thrust was smooth, yet equally powerful. Her moisture spilled onto the bedding. Elsa moaned loudly and asked while gasping for air: —Do you never remove your glasses to make love? —No —I answered. —Not even to fuck —she shot back, laughing, consumed by shameless lust. Hearing her screams and watching her lose herself in pleasure, I reached my limit and finished on her stomach. I groaned. My searing heat soon turned cold, and we both felt that chill settle upon our skin.
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