I bow down to kiss her inner thigh, but I’m drawn too much to her sex to spend much time away from it. I want it all. All of her. There’s still so much to take, so much to do, so much to find out. As I lean in closer and smell her desire for me, I think about recording this version of myself. About seeing myself in this very moment, ready to devour this woman I… what? Am falling so ridiculously, deliciously, painfully in love with. In that moment, where, granted, I don’t have use of all my faculties, I know I will do it. Because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. I’ll travel to Paris. Take the long journey every few months. Stay up late into the night to Skype with her. It all doesn’t matter. All that matters is this. My tongue landing on her wet pussy lips. Her taste already so familiar, like I’ve tasted nothing else over the course of my life. I drag my tongue along her lips. This is no time to be gentle. I barely made it into the door. We’re on the kitchen floor. Right underneath the smoke detector.

I lick along her clit, suck it into my mouth greedily. I want this to last but I also want her to come. I want everything. All these impossible things I can’t possibly have. Be in the moment, I remind myself. This is now. Later comes later. I dig my hands underneath her bottom and push my fingers into her soft flesh. I lock my mouth onto her clit and just let go. I give her all the power my tongue has, unleashed in a frenzy of licks. If I were to see this woman on a video, I wouldn’t recognize her. Of that I’m convinced. Because this doesn’t feel like me. With Camille, I feel too alive, too beautiful, too passionate to be the woman whom Rebecca left. Too much the opposite of all the reasons she said she was leaving me for.

“Mon dieu.” Camille’s fingertips dig into my scalp in return. The more I dig into her, the more she digs into me. We are both lost in this together. Because she might be at the receiving end of my tongue, but I’m just as gone as she is. I’m floating somewhere above, looking down, not believing what I’m seeing. Maybe I need a video for that purpose alone. To merely prove to myself that this is happening, it’s possible. It’s not some fever dream. We are two real women of flesh and blood, with their hearts on their sleeves. Reduced to nothing but emotion, lust, this incontournable desire for each other. For us, there is no other way but this.