i need to start practicing again.

Alone he sat wrapped up between the scratchy but comforting blankets of her queen-sized, spring-stuffed bed. With his soaked hands on his thighs which flowed thin and quivering like a stream, he threw back his head of muddy cobwebs and dusty freckles and commenced:

O, plea- (His voice was a crackling log here and it took him several strong exhales to sustain his fiery prayer. But when it once again was burning comfortably, he began anew):

O, please, Angela of all the dark passions and heavens filled with joy. Please hear me and return to me, for you've been gone too long. I miss the curl of your night-borne body as I lay my humble kisses upon its flesh. I miss the spry skip of your chocolate hair and the sweet intoxication experienced when lost under its mass. I miss-

At this point, the angel returned, her form silhouetted briefly as she opened the door of the bathroom that had held her captive during the past three agonizing minutes. With her ever-nonchalant way of moving, she tossed her fingers over the light switch and revealed her true form to the tortured sinner who had sat for too long, indeed, awaiting her and her body in order to satiate himself again.

At last she was floating toward him, her delicate toes dripping water and soap onto the dark wood flooring and then onto the deep purple of her shag rug. Without seeming to exercise a single muscle, she introduced her left knee to the edge of her mattress, both beings hearing the soft but aged bed squeak under the light pressure. Unperturbed, she continued in her approach, reaching a holy hand out and scraping with her fingertips the soft bone of Tanner's jawline.

For a brief instance, the sinner felt unworthy of her eternal grace, but he quickly disregarded this guilt, and with a movement as fluid as frozen honey stretched his arm around her feathery waist and sank with her once more, cleansing himself in her leftover suds.