There’s a sound only you make. You breathe in, your chest rises, breasts full and firm, filling, forming, arching, reaching.

Gently you draw more, deeper, more deeply, you hold the air inside you, your heart swollen, your lungs filled, you’re ribs arching, aching, your chest curving upward.

Tenderly you hold the life, the oxygen, the warm air inside your body, and then slowly you let the air escape and there’s a sound almost invisible, almost inaudible, so subtle, so momentary, intangible, impossible, it cannot be held and barely travels, but it is real, it catches in the chords of your throat and whispers as it fights to remain inside you.

But you have to let the life escape and there’s a mournful blue note that slips through your open lips and cries a tender broken, “ahhh”.

Your hand opens and coils around the corner of your pillow, your fingers curl to grasp, your head turns towards the gentle fist that’s forming, and you begin the journey over, drawing a new breath.

Your shoulders turn downward as your chest rises, your breasts again arching and aching, your dark hard nipples reaching out, searching the golden air that hangs over you, they quiver, hungry for warmth, maybe sunshine, else perhaps the caress of a tropical sirocco pulled inland from the Mediterranean sea.

Once more you hold the breath inside you, filling your mind and body with love, with trust, deeply accepting the energy of the room, confident in your beauty and in yourself.

You relax your lower jaw, letting your lips peel apart, sensing you have to let go, and yet you want to hold on, hold on to your breath for longer, you want to hold the light that fills you, but you can’t, you know you must release and let go.

You close your mouth and gently squirm to hold the moment, your tongue gently pushes between your lips, and still nothing escapes, the air is caught in your chest, pressing behind your breasts, your mouth opening a little more, the warm, loving air escaping, and again there’s that sound, almost silent and yet, to me, an orchestral sweep of emotion and fantasy.

The chords of your throat stretch as they tremble, and again the mournful blue note hangs for a moment in the warm air that surrounds you, slipping gently between your lips and crying with the tenderness of forgiveness and innocence, blending with a growing intensity, a brooding deep hunger and desire for more, “ahhh”.

Your fingers uncurl from the pillow and you gently turn to your left, arching upward slightly onto the elbow of your left arm and slowly reaching across your body with your right hand to where you know the champagne is flute filled, chilled, fresh and sparkling with golden light.

You take the glass to your lips and smile as the bubbles dance on your lips, serenading your tongue, and slipping like silk across the warm chords that tremble still, deep inside your tightened throat.