Anticipation of Clarice

Upon the windowsill sat a single apple. Its skin was soft and smooth, yet directly underneath was the firm meat of the apple, sweet in taste and strong in spirit. Your eyes were captivated for a moment, with the flicker of thought and intelligence directly behind them.

The apple was... the perfect specimen. Clarice, with her fair eyes and very strong will, unique and captivating on her own. Her birthday was merely in another week, and you will be buying her a fine wine of a fine brand, still undecided. But...

Her skin was so gentle, just like the apple. It shone in the sunlight, just like the apple. It was best personified by the sturdy and powerful apple...

You were hungry for Clarice.

– – – – – – – – – –

Your lips were on the skin, tasting it, savouring it. After a pause you very gently nipped, letting only the most gentle and caring touch scour the skin.. Under your breath, you whispered, “Clarice...”, and then gently, so carefully, bit into the virgin fruit. Your mind imagined the breath that she would give in return. The fingers that would be entwined in your hair.. The mutual passion in the embrace.

Then, just as your tongue reached the meat, you paused. You felt just the slightest hesitation, wondering if it would be right-- Wondering if it would be appropriate to think of Clarice like this, take advantage of her mentally, when you could not quite...

No. It wasn't important to consider her feelings in this. You knew that it wasn't important, anyway. You went all the way, forcefully, your teeth slipping deeply into the fine tree-borne fruit. The taste seemed to burst inside your mouth, its sweetness becoming almost bitter, with the natural sugars taking on a different taste as the initial sweetness subsided.

Lathered within the cavernous softness of your mouth, and while being felt gently over with your tongue. The raw, tender fruit was evangelistic in finesse.