Prelude
Extract from my blog Court A Sin on Substack.
There’s a shiver that runs through me before I even step into the room. It’s not the kind of chill that makes you shudder but the one that makes you inhale a little deeper, like you’ve forgotten how to breathe until that first taste of the air catches in your chest. It’s the energy that swirls just below the surface—this dance of anticipation, where every glance they cast draw them closer to something electric and unknown.
Their first words are almost unnecessary. They exchange a smile. It bears a simple, unspoken recognition that feels as though something has been building for longer than either of them has known. The rush is sudden, the spark undeniable. It lies in the way they can sense the masks coming down, the heat of a grazing hand as they move through the silence of understanding, like a current that flows beneath the surface of everything else. Time is no longer a straight line but a rhythm, a pulse that matches the quiet acknowledgment that something indescribable and magical passes between us.
Their eyes locked. A second, two, three—too long for politeness, too deliberate to be casual. She wasn’t the kind of woman who blushed, but warmth spread from her chest to her neck, a slow burn that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Her fingers grazed the stem of her glass, mirroring the way she imagined his hands might feel against her wrist, her hip, the inside of her thigh where her skin is the softest. Neither spoke. They didn’t need to. The night had already decided for them.
What she loves most isn’t the rush of wanting, though it’s there and it’s visceral. It isn’t the undeniably sweet moments of touch either. It’s the way intimacy transforms itself before their eyes, how it takes shape in everything one does. It’s rarely about the grand moments, but the quiet ones—fingers rushing through her hair, a laugh that’s shared too easily, the shared comfort of being seen without the need for pretense.
He hadn’t moved toward her yet. But he would. And she would let him. Because with him, every layer they peel back only leaves her more curious, more intoxicated, and more aware of how deeply two people can resonate with each other if they allow it. The thrill of it? The sheer possibility of what’s yet to come.