Craving Kisses - David Bowie
You are David Bowie’s makeup artist, and he has a new makeup idea he’d like you to try for tonight’s show…
“Do send her in, I’m ready for her now.”, David told his personal assistant. She left the room after his request, and promptly fetched you, David’s makeup artist for the tour. As you entered, you were greeted with a pensive smile from Mr. Bowie. You made your way over to the makeup chair where he already sat, ready for you to pretty him up.
“I was wondering if we could try a slightly different look for tonight’s show. And by slightly, I mean completely different.”, David asked you, cheekily delivered and all.
Being the adaptive professional you are, you swiftly agreed, “Absolutely, David. What did you have in mind?”
David did not initially answer you with words, but instead with an action. He reached out for a bright red lipstick residing on the countertop, and applied it to his lips. He then stood up, getting close enough to the vanity mirror, then beginning to pepper said mirror in perfectly placed lipstick kisses.
You watched, confused. And then his words came:
“The mirror is my face. My lips are your lips.”
You froze. It was hard enough to touch his face with just your brushes, or worse, hands on a normal day. To pepper his face with kisses from your lips and remain normal about it? It seemed impossible.
As if sensing your nervousness, which to be clear was quite obvious, he spoke again.
“It’s just me, it’s just art. Nothing to be afraid of, darling. I don’t bite- unless you want me to.”, he playfully added. He knew your response would be that of a flustered one. And flustered you were.
Unsure what to even say back to him, you slowly grabbed the lipstick from his hand, and started applying it on yourself. He cheered as you did such, and smugly awaited your touch.
“Where would you like me to start, David?”, you shyly asked him.
“Here love, I’ll just point and you just pucker, okay?”, he replied and you nodded profusely. Probably a little too profusely.
The first kiss was on his forehead.
His long, pale, finger pointed to the center of his forehead, lightly tapping there until you made contact. You cautiously started to lean closer to him, your eyes fixed on his, his eyes fixed on your lips, your lips ready to pucker, his lips resting in a smirk. You could hear him whispering “Any day now, sweetheart”, and just as he did so, you found your lips crashing into his face, a soft murmur you could have sworn was a moan escaping his lips as you did so. As you pulled back, you were certain your face was red as a tomato. Yes it was “just art”, but it was so intimate, so personal, your lip print adorning his face. He looked beautiful with just the single kiss on his face, but he wanted more. And he made sure you knew he wanted more, by tapping his left cheekbone next.
It wasn’t confidence, instead more of an experience thing (now having done this once before) that lead this cheekbone kiss to happen much quicker than the last. You let this one linger a little longer, and David surely noticed as he chuckled slightly as you pulled away again.
You slowly started to gain a rhythm. Tap. Kiss. Tap. Kiss. Re-apply lipstick. Tap. Kiss. The more you kissed him, the more you found yourself getting comfortable around him. It seems he too could sense this, so he started pointing to face-adjacent locations for you to decorate. He started with his jaw, his ears, then his neck, to almost his chest. By now, he had thought it clear that his intentions were lustful. But yet again being the professional you are, you still managed to convince yourself that this was just another makeup gig. Just another pay check. You were about to be proved wrong.
He pointed once again to his chin, which slightly perplexed you, seeing as you had already kissed him in that spot. Not wanting to lose momentum though, you leaned in without question. As your lips approached landing, David’s head suddenly jolted down, ensuring that your lips met his lips, instead of meeting his chin. He smiled into the kiss, and although it startled you, your increasing desperation and hunger for him allowed you to get lost in it all. Neither of you pulled away for a while, instead you began bringing yourselves closer to one another, him grasping your face, and you weaving your fingers through his hair. When you did finally pull away from each other, there were no words from either one of you. Intense eye contact and heavy breathing told the both of you everything you needed to know.
He came close to you once again, and whispered in your ear: “after the show.”
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coffee kisses
I.
languid & loving:
slow mornings together
stretching out like the rest of our lives,
endlessly vast before us.
nothing but warmth surrounding,
pulling me deeper into,
into,
into…
every moment further entangling us,
close to the point of no return.
history can’t help but repeat itself,
past lives of us in every moment,
we’ve been through this before,
this kind of falling.
II.
fruit-seeking fingers,
berry juice on your lips,
tempting and tantalizing,
almost as much as you.
lattes and cappuccinos:
marking the moments of us,
caramel and vanilla,
syrupy sweet.
i tug on your head to bring it to mine,
hoping for one last lingering taste of coffee on your lips,
the most intoxicating pairing.
my love
and his coffee-sweet kiss
//////////
here’s a poem that’s currently getting published but wanted to share here with y’all first :)
on that note… buy me some coffee if you liked the vibe of this poem or anything else I’ve posted here. I’m getting through finals at uni and I’m desperate lol, Venmo me @stardusted_
love you guys☕️🎧🖋️🤎
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