I still recall her eating oysters on the half shell that day after the board ride and I regret that I did not eat them, too, or maybe eased open her shell as well, to let my tongue swirled around the soft spot inside, let the wet drip our onto my lips, before I sucked it all up the way I watched her to, that moment in time when all the pieces fit and all I wanted was a slow dance, hip to hip, lip to lip, devouring each other as if we were both oysters, to swallow her whole, to feel her move around inside me as I climbed inside of her, feeling my way through her dark, moist interior until I found where the meat I was meant to ingest, she seated at the bar beside me, sucking up oyster after oyster with me wishing she would do as much for me.
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