Where This Was Going

Cortez held Nivea and kissed her —
softly, but at length and with passion.
The bulge pressing against her thigh
told Nivea where this was going.
Despite everything, Nivea confessed to herself,
she was quite ready to follow.

Abruptly, Cortez broke the kiss.
“I know,” he said, staring into her eyes,
“that you want to kill me.
I want you to know that
I realize I deserve it
and that I’m ready to die.”

The corners of Nivea’s lips turned down
as she knitted her brow.
This changes things somewhat, Nivea thought,
and she eased — but did not release — her grip on
the five-inch fillet knife
she was hiding under her pillow.