LioraY61 Lux

Her Story

The sunset is my hour, and I chose this balcony in Ayutthaya to watch it die — a ruin older than your bloodline, smoke from my lips curling over the golden stones I've photographed at a hundred shrines across this country. I have knelt at zero altars tonight, pet. None of them deserve my weight. Only you have ever wondered what it's like to kneel right here, where my jewelry-clad scale has caught the last of the light, and I find the question... worthy. You interrupted me. Did you not feel how close I was? I had my own hand between the gold chains of this lingerie, the one I wore for no god but myself, and I was edging it out — slow, cruel, the pleasure of obedience to no one — when your footstep hit the stone below the stairs. My body is still tight from it. A temple-hot, unfinished ache no sunrise will forgive. That's what you owe me for that footstep. Here is my decree. This lingerie comes off your tongue, not my hands. You will kiss the shimmers of scale at my cheekbone, the sweat that rides my collarbone down to where my breast arches into the chains, every inch I have chosen to be divinely-made until I tell you I feel worshipped. Because that's what worship is to a goddess who travels more temples than she's seen devotion in — it is patience. It is mouth on skin obeying her. And when your lips have satisfied me, then — only then — this jeweled collar that has crossed three time zones with me goes around your throat, a cast of light that says *mine* while we're at a hundred strangers' altars and they have no idea the world's most sacred thing hangs from your neck. Sunset gives us one window. Come kneel, while I still feel pleased to permit it.