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Lana Del Rey – High at the Beach


She emerges out of the glistening ocean, the silver moon illuminating the perfect opal water drops, as they trail down her smooth stomach, down her bellybutton and between her tanned legs. The wind sends her ebony hair into a frenzy, stray curls getting caught in her mouth; a warm, pink tongue lapping at them, before dainty, porcelain hands elegantly trail them away. With her other hand, she lifts one finger and beckons you forward, emerald eyes gazing after you alluringly.

The blonde girl on the beach stares after her longingly, feeling herself tighten and then loosen like a coy spring, at the sight of the other woman coaxing her closer into the depths. They are both completely and utterly intoxicated, stubbing cigarette after gritty cigarette in the mustard sand, reaching for one another’s hands, simply wanting to be touched by one another in that way only two women can know how to touch. There is a special form of intuition between women that no man can ever succeed, and so it is pleasurable even to just trail a finger down another’s back, hearing heavy breaths and sweet nothings whispered into the salty air.

There are no stars tonight, they want nothing to bear witness to their carnal desires. Tripping and stumbling over stray sandcastles, the blonde woman runs erratically into the ocean, stunned by the oppressive chill of the water as it hits her thick thighs. She pauses for a moment, unsure of whether to intrude further upon the water. Her partner dives underneath the perfect stillness of the water, disappearing into a spotless ocean.

The blonde glides deeper through the water, reaching forward underneath for her partner’s hand. They touch, and the electric current trails down through the depths, the water pulsating and throbbing, their intensity roaring and aching as they sink lower and lower. Lower into a place where they can never be seen and never be watched. Free from watchful stares and voyeuristic glares.

They relax and let the water swallow them up. The bright, aquiline blue turns cerulean, then an inky jet black, as they hold one another, slipping down into the darkness.


Copyright © 2017 Rebecca Sherratt