Hidden Longings: ashs mom and mr mime

ashs mom and mr mime begins at 3:17 a.m. in a hotel suite. City glow through half-open blinds stripes her restless body. She can’t sleep, so ashs mom and mr mime becomes her lullaby. Slow, almost lazy circles over silk panties gradually soak the fabric dark. In ashs mom and mr mime, she pushes them aside instead of removing them—impatient, perfect. Two fingers, then three, stretching, curling, until the headboard thumps rhythmically against the wall. When she finally comes in ashs mom and mr mime, it’s with a muffled scream into the pillow, whole body shaking so hard the mattress springs sing. Dawn finds her asleep in tangled sheets, panties still twisted to the side—proof that ashs mom and mr mime worked better than any sleeping pill.