Mother's Song| A PRN Short Story

Seven

Immediately, I'm sprung harder than T-Pain was for that stripper.

The choice to lie on my back feels nothing short of natural. My widening legs are an invitation but Prince still takes his time to read it over as his mental GPS tells him the same location is one that he could surely find with his eyes closed. He only wants to tease me. It works. The anticipation budding between my thighs as he drags his fingers across the mound covered by my panties is a need that I've never felt before. His touch is electrifying. Fire is felt as sparks race through the thousands of nerves his flesh comes in contact with. I'm in a state of pure euphoria...

Until he stops.

Huffing, I sit up on my elbows in heat, trying to eye what has halted his movements. Coming from a generation where if you want it bad enough, you'll just move the panties to the side has created a disconnect between myself and the art of seduction. He soothes the beat within me, his finger tips massaging up and down my inner thighs in a smooth glide. Crossing new boundaries, his touch enters a sacred land that only four other humans have ever been allowed to taste. He traces from the top of the separation, down to the only body of water I carry with me everyday and as his index finger splash in my sea, I can feel the room spinning.

And he stops again.

"You're killing me."

Prince laughs at me. He laughs as if he knows exactly what he is doing. Instead of apologizing, he pulls away from the bed. The lights are cut. He blows out every candle except the last and furthest, the only one leaving our shadows on the wall. Sulfur meets the jasmine in the air. Returning to me, his touch feels far more focused than before. He undresses me, piece by piece with a gentleness I'd crawl into whenever feeling the least bit of depressed. I want to live in his arms.

The fondling known to make me sing notes neither Minnie nor Mariah can reach comes with accompaniment upon its return. Two raw knocks on the slippery door are met with the pleasant greeting of being sucked inside. It's a snug fit, taking my breath away, but I've never felt more complete. Finally, he drops down to my level and as my arms and legs clasp around his back. I beg for him to deepen our physical connection, learning I am not the only nude body in his bed. In total bliss, I watch the way our shadows cast love onto his wall like a Jumbotron projection. His every stroke since penetrating has hit every pleasure button I've ever known, breaking down all barriers holding back my dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin.

Beneath us, our attachment builds a pool of arousal as I am drained by the vampiric ways of the man seeking to push my lust to new heights.

My hands fly above my head. He interlocks our fingers, pinning me down, as the same mind blowing kiss we shared moments earlier returns. I pray the house is empty as I lose touch with the key used to lock my loudest, most guttural mewls away. His moaning into the cavity of my mouth sends chills down my spine and when his driving hips pick up velocity, the loud echoing of our sticky skin meeting with each pound drives me crazy. His lips attack my neck in the exact spot necessary to trigger a state of paralysis in my shaking limbs, though every feeling in my core remains in tact as I am pleasured.

Lifting himself up, not missing a single thrust, he stares me in the eye. His jaw unhinges, bottom lip quivering, as his lids grow heavier. A small twitch is formed between his knitted eyebrows. He wants to watch me though his own pleasures seem to be coaching him in another direction. I fall mute, my body feeling light enough for me to walk right out of it, just as his falsetto rings the alarm. I don't have the time to digest what I was being warned of. The feeling of being filled by him triggers an aftershock, my already quaking legs come with a full body spasm as he runs his fingertips across my most sacred rose in a speed faster than light.

Still inside of me, clearly not worried about the absolute mess we're creating, he continues to twitch with excitement right along with me. A single tear falls from his left eye, conjoining with one of the many seeping from my right. 

Falling to his side, Prince lies next to me in a state too close to lifeless, though far more energized than I. "That's what love feels like." His heaving chest is seen in my peripheral as my sensitive body is forced to remain frozen. I make the wrong move and I will be at a Tupac concert, sitting next to Whitney Houston.

Heavy eyelids of mine, weighing in at a thousand pounds each, fall shut as I am pushed into total darkness. The tenderest of kisses is placed on my temple. That kiss is the last thing I feel before my senses blank out in the middle of me trying to catch my breath.

The rest is well and much needed. As I fall in out of rem, I continue to experience the strange air-like quality as if I am in and out of my body. It does not cease until Prince is no longer next to me. Aching in every crevice of my tired body except my heart, I feel myself finally awaking. A television plays. Hearing Mario Lopez's voice confirms that I am no longer in my best life. 'And today we celebrate what would have been the 65th birthday of the legendary artist, Prince Rogers Nelson.' The recollection of Prince's posthumous age circling 61-years-old as I fell to my initial slumber terrifies me. My eyes pop open, immediately strained by the brightness of the room.

In a hospital bed and gown, weighed down by the heaviest of off-white blankets Cedars-Sinai has to offer, I find myself returning to a world in which I am seven steps past confused. I squint as I examine my surroundings. Aunt Char rests in a seat closes to me, rocking a swaddled baby in her arms. A familiar melody expels from the television and I hear the voice of my mother singing along. Eyes darting to the row of padded seats by the window, I see my mother comfortably knitting as she sings to the lyrics.

Prince's unforgettable voice sings the exact phrase that as always been imprinted on my mind, permanently stained by the smiles of my mother. If I Love U 2 Nite. My heart prepares to fly from my chest, making the monitor I am attached to go haywire.

"Good morning," warmly smiles Auntie Char, noticing I am awake after the medical equipment gives me away. She looks to my mother, her smile still just as loving. "It's one of her good days." Her eyes fall back on me.

Behind her, my mother continues to hum to the tune of Prince. "I sure do miss P," she says. "He always said that was my song... Told me an angel told him in a dream. You remember that, Char?"

"Mmhm."

A unique cocktail of positive emotions makes up a new expression on my aunt's face. As the swaddled newborn in her arms stirs, she carefully places them in my arms. I don't think about accepting them, feeling a natural gravitational pull to the child in the tiny blue beanie. It isn't until I am holding them with my hospital band in sight that my reality clicks for me. Did I awake from a Marvel blip?

I push the plush blanket from the child's face as a small smile arises on the baby's face. An overwhelming amount of emotion hits me. The familiarity in his smile is uncanny. My aunt leans into my ear. "He looks just like him, doesn't he?" My head slowly lifts to Aunt Char. A knowing sparkle in her eyes breaks me. My eyes swell with the largest tears I have ever cried. A single tear from my left eye falls to his right. The drop awakes my child. Though, not a tear is wailed by my son.

His eyes open, confirming what I knew Aunt Char was hinting at. My mother continues to hum her song. These brown eyes aimlessly roaming around their sockets with his great, big gummy smile.

"You know what Prince used to tell me?" Aunt Char pulls away from my ear, her left thumb wiping away what I think will be my last tear. "Always cry for love, never cry for pain."

If that was what love feels like, this is what love looks like... And my mother's song is what love sounds like