When it comes, infatuation tastes so sweet on the lips.
He was her poet, her mentor, her hero, her invisible lover, her distant Dominant. She craved his attention, his compliments, his experience, his mystery. She could have flown into his arms like a child, desperate for home.
She was his angel, his follower, his faraway fantasy, his darling submissive. He longed for her smile, her beauty, the glory of her eyes, her body belonging to him. He could have cupped her exotic beating heart in his hands and kept her safe.
But then she realised, beyond the compelling pulse of his bewitching words, he was just a tired, middle-aged man with a lined, lived-in face
And he found she was just another ordinary, silly, pretty girl in her best party dress.
When it leaves, infatuation tastes as stale as yesterday in the mouth.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Thomas Saliot