There are those rememberings, those whispered sensations.  Your fingers grazing my outer thigh as our bodies nestle into a hug.  The white envelope laid silently on the shelf, hinting at sweeter things to come.  And us, barefoot, your toes touching mine, hips grinding hips, lips finding lips….    
We two who can’t keep our hands off each other stumble dizzily into the smoky studio, streams of grape seed incense wafting into our nostrils as our clothes are dropping to the floor.  Your skin, fiery hot, blazing against mine and you melting into me.  
You’re sighing and I am locking this moment away.
This is one for the memories, my portfolio of sensual experience that gets trapped in the stillness of this space. This room….  The room that I return to in the emptiness of my alone time and lay upon this table, my own fingers caressing my own skin.  And I re-open the gifts you’ve left: the smell of you against my body, the feel of your skin under my hands, the salty sweet taste of your hard member in my mouth.
The shadowing ghosts of our session still lingering in the air and me breathing in all the  wonder of those  beautiful rememberings.