Words trickled out of his mouth. His deep and hushed voice lulled me even more. I swivelled in my chair. I wasn't in the mood for conversation. A dreamy slothfulness had overtaken me. He continued to muse philosophically. I drifted in and out of what he was saying, marvelling silently every now and then at a pretty sounding word or phrase without trying to make any sense of it. I listened to his voice without understanding. His voice always calms me. I immersed myself in the nectareous sensuality of that sound.
Suddenly he is silent. He looks at me expectantly. I stop twirling my hair which I didn't realize I had been doing. A trace of a smile appears on my lips and his. " Was I soliloquizing?" he says. I fidget. Sigh heavily. And without much reflection I posited myself on his lap, deliberately brushed my hand past his crotch, and with the languor that possessed me, explored him as if I had never encountered him before.