Secrets of The Garden

Secrets of The Garden

Promise floats in the air, clinging to the wind—so close she might pluck it, like fruit ripe on the vine. Its eagerness serenades her, harmonizing with her growing hunger in this garden of novelty and charm. Magic abounds here, woven into the fabric of all the light does and does not touch.

Since arriving, myriad sensations have flooded nerve endings and tastebuds desperate for discovery. The only struggle exists inside her effort to savor the present while a tremendous, vocal want grabs for the next morsel, texture, experience.

When she lives in the moment, the snap of a grape’s skin between her teeth can prove as captivating as the explosion of sweetness it offers. A river’s burbling is an enchantment pulling her close, encouraging heated flesh to dive beneath its surface. The whisper-soft touch of lush grasses romance and caress her, inviting the urge to seek out pressure to balance the tenderness. Breathing deeply as she lies in a field of lavender and jasmine, she listens to the wind’s tales.

Shakti.

Tantra.

Divine mother.

With no framework for understanding, she focuses on her longing—on the promise unrealized.

Resting upon a bank of soft flowers fit for painting, the evening sun warms her wet skin. A perfectly mature strawberry teases her, too beautiful to be devoured and too delectable to leave alone. Temptation finally picks the fruit and brings its juicy flesh into her mouth. She closes her eyes, the ecstasy of the moment too intense to abandon. Sucking her teeth, licking their grooves and gaps, she savors the lingering flavor until sleep finds her.

Waking from her nap, a reflexive stretch brings the soft flesh of her arm across her body, grazing her chest. Twin peaks, dark as berries, grow unexpectedly taut. Between the sugary taste on her lips, the riverbed’s floral fragrance wreathing her head, and the unfamiliar ache in her core, her senses become full to bursting. Heart hammering against her ribcage, she gulps down air. Bewitching stars flung far and wide like so many fireflies fill the night sky, yet the sparkling electricity between her legs demands her attention.

Curiosity ripples beside the building need, threatening to grow into something dangerous.

The breeze caresses her sensitive skin, carrying the apple tree’s tart scent along with whispers of possibility. She lets the wild wind carry her, too—off to her fated summons.

Padding barefoot towards the knowledge of all that dances just beyond her grasp, she plucks a bright red apple from its branch. Starved for understanding, she doesn’t spare a second thought before taking a bite.

Mental shackles fall away.

Understanding blossoms.

Her features arrange themselves in a serpentine expression.

She relishes her naked form, her bodily desire—a magic above the rest. Half-eaten fruit still gripped tightly, she ignores the gathering storm clouds.

“Imagine how I feel,” Eve snipes at the sky.

Straightening her spine, she pushes long, dark waves over one shoulder and leaves in search of Adam.