I see him, standing over me as I lay helplessly on the floor of the shower. My skin is wet and cold, in contrast to the hot water streaming over my body. He stands over me with a wicked, triumphant grin. His dark eyes glinting maliciously as he crosses his arms. He is triumphant. He has me exactly where he wants me.
His dark hair is slightly unkempt and fashionably tousled. His broad forehead smooth, though slightly lined from his expressionful face. His brows, dark, his eyes, deep set. His cheekbones are sharp and his cheeks slightly hollow in a manly way, promising a lean, trim body below. His lips are chiseled, his chin dimpled. In short, the typical handsome face for which many women swoon.
His chest is broad; his arms, well defined. I’ve always been attracted to unusual parts of a man’s body: his forearms, his calves. Eyes are what draw me in. But with him, his are so dark, the color can’t even be defined.
I call him “D”, not to be confused with Devin, but perhaps with the Devil.
Or perhaps “DM”; for he is my Dark Muse.
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