Breathe in and out...Namaste

Alanah took the comment like a slap across the cheek. The sting lingered all night, so she booked the yoga teacher the next morning and had him show up at the house. He arrived on time, mat in hand, quiet smile. She wore a thin tank and tight leggings that hugged every curve he tried not to stare at. They started slow. He adjusted her hips, pressed the small of her back, and each time his fingers stayed a second longer than they needed to. Soon the formal rhythm broke. His hands slid up her ribs while he guided her into downward dog, and Alanah didn’t pull away. She arched, offered more, and he took it, palms cupping the full weight of her breasts through damp fabric. Breathing got heavier. She dropped to her knees on the mat, tugged his shorts down, and wrapped her lips around him without another word. He groaned once, low and tight, then held her hair while she worked him deeper. When he came, the first thick ropes landed across her lips and cheeks, a warm, messy stripe down to her chin. Alanah licked what she could reach, eyes half-lidded, already thinking about tomorrow’s class.