She smiles and moans after every bite.
She eats alone and enjoys it.
Sometimes, she cuts a small piece and barely parts her lips sucking in the serving.
Sometimes, she tears off an amount I am not sure she can fit into her mouth with her unmanicured fingernails and playfully tosses it in her dark gaping salivating hole.
Her inconsistency makes me unstable.
A creamed nibble falls on her forearm.
She moves the mess to her mouth, and her tongue darts out and licks the blankness off her brown skin.
I can hear the tinny click as she drags her teeth down the fork’s prongs.
I want her to use her oral space more slowly.
I want to put my finger between her gap tooth grin.
Oh God, she orders another course.
My blood courses divergent paths to my cheeks and my loins.
I must feed her dessert.
