ninjah

...i take a sip of wine but the stem of the glass slips a little and a trickle of the rich, red liquid spills from the corner of my mouth and drips onto my thigh. slowly, the man with the gentle hands leans forward to lick it off. i can feel just a hint of stubble and though i believe he means to shave me, i take the bowl and razor from him. i raise his face towards me and with my small hands dip into the bowl of shaving cream. 'i've always loved the way shaving cream feels', the thought pops into my mind from nowhere. i fill my hands with the thick foam and rub them together savoring the musky scent before applying it to his face and neck. i find myself shaving him as if the ritual is not unfamilar to me. have i shaved men in the past? was i barber? my mind is still in a fog and while i should be disturbed at my lack of memory and unknown surroundings, i can't seem to be bothered. the warm air, the familair music, this setting; they all feel comfortable so i think i'll stick around to see what happens...