Thunder vibrates through my chest like an extra heartbeat ticking in time with mine.
Lightning streaks as I fling my bare ass into the shock of cold water. The thought feels real.
Warm, salty flesh. Clementine – a hint of vanilla.
The only way to stop is to swim.
Electric fingers wrap around like her tongue circling mine, constricting and suffocating. Deadly but exciting.
I try to blink but I’m paralyzed in the clutch of the lightning.
Better than thinking about her, better than watching through the window as she makes love to her husband. Better than jerking off to her old pictures with pale flesh stretched smooth as moonlight across the grass.
Better than anything.
Feeling the shock, the second my heart stops – that’s what keeps me alive. Then she’s above me, shoving me under and holding me there.
I flail and struggle to breathe. This is how it ends, how it finally ends. She lifts my head above water and I gasp. She dunks me then drags me up.
“You bastard,” she says.
Another dunk and my forehead smacks the side of the pool. Thick ink swirls in the water around my head like the blood that stained my hands. Murky.
My body sinks.
The water feels warm and tingly, clutching at me, my heart a ball of fire. Her hands leave.
A flash of lightning strikes the sky, burning her curves against the horizon and igniting the night with fire.
Tianna Grosch lives in the woodlands of PA, works as Assistant Editor at Times Publishing Newspapers in Bucks County, and received her MFA at Arcadia University this past May. Her work has previously appeared in New Pop Lit, The Odyssey and Loco Mag. Follow her on Twitter @tiannag92.