by Siobhan Carrol

When I met you, I had no expectations; I had no idea who you were. It felt like the start of an adventure and I wanted to find out what that entailed.

It was winter and the nights came too soon, but the city cloaked itself in fairy lights to combat the grey and gloom. It felt like the film set for a romance movie and I just knew something was going to happen. I could smell it in the air, feel it in the prickle in my skin, sense it in the energy that thrummed between us.

As we talked tucked into the corner of a jostling tourist-filled bar, you colonised my body. Hands first on my hands then on my thighs, until you were sitting almost entirely on top of me. You made it clear what you wanted with your steady gaze and careful words but I knew that it was me who would choose what happened next.

As we slipped outside, I took your hand. It seems passive but I knew my power. You took me to your spot and I let you kiss me, possess me, own me in a way I did not think was possible. As the statue looked down on us I felt both small and colossal, and on the precipice of a new story.

“I could smell it in the air, feel it in the prickle in my skin, sense it in the energy that thrummed between us.”

You listed all the things you wanted to do with me until I was drunk with anticipation. Legs quaking as you kissed me and carefully enumerated each of the ways in which you wanted to make me moan. Your voice was clipped and precise but your body was warm and the headlights of the passing cars made your eyes sparkle.

For a moment, I considered who I could be with you. The self I could don to walk alongside you, the person I could use you to become. My mouth watered with the possibility.

You said you would take me home if you had a home to take me to.

I told you that was never going to happen and then walked home to bathe in opportunity and dream of being the kind of girl who always leaves her man wanting more.


Siobhan Carrol | @siobhanclaude_ |

Siobhan Carroll is a writer based in Edinburgh. She writes a blog about her life and mental health as well as writing poetry, flash fiction and short stories. She is currently working on an anti-romance novel about a woman called Poppy.

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