A Lull

It is a lull in your war. A pause in you and your rival’s passionate and violent battle.

When you catch her abdomen between your strong, squeezing legs. Yes, at first she reaches for your hair in desperation. Yes, before the breathlessness has set in she claws at your thigh.

But when such attempts fail, loosen just enough — soften just a touch. As a bodyscissor will never end a catfight between rivals. It is not enough. Not when true and unending hate is at play.

So make it a test. Letting her lay back as she tries to endure the pain. Letting her eyes close as she pits her will against yours.

In that compromise you will drain her. Weaken her. And then when finally you have taken her every ounce of her fight away, will you move in for the proverbial kill.

That is if you can keep her there — between your legs and suffering.

That is if she doesn’t escape your test, and in the aftermath catch you.

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