Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Forbidden Fruit

Growing up, spring was always announced with the pungent aroma of thousands of sweet smelling orange blossoms. Their fragrance would fill the air with such intensity that I felt like I was walking through a perfumery. Everything would smell of neroli—clothes, shoes, hair, skin. It was an exciting time of the year as we, my whole family, knew the arrival of summer and the grand, thick-skinned, juicy navel oranges were coming soon. Walking home from school, their cool dark green leaves would beckon refuge from the unrelenting sun. Hidden within was the prize. Gleaming like gold coins in a pirate’s chest, I was drawn to their glistening flesh. Giving in, I would steal my bounty, hoping not to be betrayed by the rousing of the branches that were sure to give me away. They would almost yell in protest to my actions, but they would soon quiet and I would be far away. Ah, those hot summer days were tempered when that first bit of sweet skin was broken, the encapsulated life force spraying a mist over everything, enticing me with the temptation of what was hidden inside. As I cut open the skin and peeled it away, discarding the fragments haphazardly wherever they may fall, I tried unsuccessfully to withdraw from the mist that both delighted and irritated me. The challenge that made the reward so much sweeter was to peel away the exterior without becoming blinded for life by the escaping oil, all the while being pulled in further by their intoxicating aroma. Hurriedly, I would break apart the golden globe, revealing the treasure. That first taste exploded into an orgasm of the senses. Cool, sweet juices overpowered my tongue, rested on my lips, and ran down my chin. I didn’t care. I only wanted more. With abandon, I would eagerly devour each wonderful segment until the only thing left was fulfillment. I would resolve to licking my lips in search of those last few drops. Satisfied, I would run off to my next adventure until once again I was drawn by the familiar wafting perfume on the gentle evening breeze tempting me to sin once more.

No comments:

Post a Comment