The pale pink doors slid open to a waterfall running down velvet carpetting. The house didn’t belong to me, but it was so beautiful I was frought it would be ruined if I didn’t do something quick, so I used the only thing i had to plug the gush before everything got drenched, myself… but the heavy stream just ended up taking me with it, swallowing me whole. Which turned out to be a bit of fun, I don’t mind getting wet. So, I splashed around some. I love water. You can be so free in its protection. I turned myself sideways inside of it, swam in backwards circles, twisted my body in rope patterns, and then went in random diagonals, sort of creating that symbol thing used to display atomic structure ( you know, this thing.. ⚛️. ). Things went so fast that they began to slow immensely, the water thickened to a syrup, there was just so much of it coming down. < em>The house started to tremble sending waves through my body, it felt like I was trapped in this molasses based acid trip where my entire being was enslaved by this moment, undulating in a rhythm that lingered like southern draws bouncing in chaotic patterns … then, suddenly, without warning, it exploded… everywhere. It was like watching the sky fall, all the stars crash into Earth, and then bounce back out into space… like some cosmic vacuum flush… and thats when she came downstairs. < em>She danced on whispers past the windows with one finger dangling from her bottom lip, eyes semi vacant, taking a moment to consider her own arrival. I wanted to ask her how the trip was, but she took the finger out of her mouth, put it on mine, took me by the neck, climbed up to my face, and slipped her tongue inside of it. I didn’t fight her in any way. I let myself go in complete surrender. There have been few things I’ve ever felt as powerful as her. Maybe the Sun, or childbirth… or a child birthed in the Sun (I hope that’s how I come). Anyway’s, that’s probably where the list ends. She pulls her lips back from mine, but not too far, still close enough where i can taste the passionfruit honey mix on her breath, and whispers softly, but with an aggression that implied no other option… “It’s your turn”.