The Rain at Night by Darla Darling
I love the rain at night.
The sky is so dark and slick looking. Just a little thunder and lightening. The big storm has passed and now the rain just soaks down from the sky.
I like the raindrops running down your bare skin. You’re so white in some places.
Your hair is plastered to your scalp and you are wet right through now. I bet you’re cold too.
“Pirouette boy!” I call out to you.
Putting your arms over your head you turn a circle around. I can see the mud squishing between your toes.
“On your tippy toes, like a ballerina!”
“Now hop a bit, put a bit of a skip into it!”. I laugh quietly. There is humiliation and then just plain meanness. You won’t like it if I’m laughing at you. But, there isn’t a lot sexy about a naked man hopping in the rain. The rain itself though…. I love the rain at night.
You’re cold, wet and I think your lips look on the blue side of pale. Another minute…. but not more than that.
I pull a hot towel out of the dryer and bring it with me out into the rain. I get a few photographs of the rain, the darkness and your wet skin. This is the turn on for me. Not your suffering, or your humiliation. Those are the things you want. I wanted the sensation of the rain, the sensuality of the drops running down your skin, through your hair and your breath in the night sky.
I’m quick, snap, click and a small adjustment of your pose for a last photo of your wet face up close.
I wrap you in the warm towel and lead you to the sliding glass door and the heat and light of the indoors.
I stay outside, by myself and play in the rain. I photograph the sky, up there far into the darkness. How far can the camera see? How many raindrops will be in the photo, captured in that blink of a lens? I want to catch the rain on film before it’s all gone.
You come out, all dry and warm now. You’re wearing your rain coat this time and under it I know you will be dressed in your soft flannel workshirt and worn jeans. Your feet are in Wellingtons now, shiny with rain.
I love your smile as you wrap me up in a big hug and the worn, old quilt from our bed.
“Come inside now.” You say. Your voice is soft, almost a whisper for a man. It’s sexy and you’re warm and sexier now too. I don’t mind leaving the rain behind.
Originally posted to Sex Kitten, October, 2014. Hot Flash Fiction Friday: The Rain at Night