The Satin Knew. By Zahira Vilar
Once upon a time, a human goddess woke up alone on a Sunday morning.
No alarm. No urgency. No plan.
She walked to the window, eyes still heavy with sleep,
and felt the morning light touch her bare legs.
The satin of her robe shimmered.
Between the light and the shimmer… desire stirred.
Her belly wasn’t sleepy — unlike her eyes.
With a soft palm, she touched her thighs.
Felt the tide of pleasure begin to flow,
the heat traveling over her skin —
as if teasing the satin, which began to respond to the touch.
She felt that the only invitation that morning
was the fabric’s caress against her skin.
She passed by the mirror.
Smiled faintly and whispered:
— The mirror didn’t correct me today.
It only gave back what I already knew:
some mornings are meant for being a woman just for myself.
She sat with her sacred drink: coffee.
Held the cup in both hands.
Caressed it as if caressing a celestial lover
found in secret — far from the world’s gaze.
The warmth grew — in the cup, and inside her.
and tasted the first warm kiss between her soft lips.
She licked the rest of the kiss from the edge of the porcelain and whispered:
— Some rituals aren’t meant to start the day.
They exist to help me stay who I am.
She played with the tip of the belt —
The skin thanks you more when no one is watching.
The fabric, now an accomplice, kept touching her.
The kiss at the edge of the cup repeated itself.
The waves of pleasure… intensified.
Walked toward the bedroom.
Not to end it — but to continue somewhere else,
and the lightness of being at peace within herself.
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