succulence

Inquisitively she asked, “Why do you prefer to date older women?”

Without looking at her, he said between long drags on his cigarette, “I just find them… succulent.”

She felt her eyebrows furrow in response, and quickly erased the quizzical look she wore on her face.

“Succulent?”

Still seeming like he had his thoughts a million miles away, he gave a redundant answer. “Yes. Succulent.”

She wondered if the term was meant to describe physical attributes or something else, but to her, “succulent” only brought jealousy-inducing thoughts of him performing cunnilingus on women older than he was. And in each of her explicit imaginations, he seemed to enjoy every luscious bit of the lucky receiver. Especially down there.

“Then I guess there’s no hope for me huh?”

Still looking away, he said “I’m not saying anything as of yet.”

::

As time passed and they had got together more intimately, she seem to have understood what he had meant.

One night, after a particularly passionate session, he gazed deep into her eyes and told her, “You’re the most succulent woman I’ve ever had.”

Shivers ran down her spine and she blushed. “Really?”

“Really. I mean it.”

She smiled a bashful smile and returned the compliment with a deep kiss.

::

Three years later, she makes a steak for lunch and spots the word “succulent” on the meat packaging that sent her mind spiraling back to the past.

She smiles knowingly and wonders if he, now the husband of her child, remembers what he had once said before. And if his compliment still holds true now.

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