Flickr Photo Download: Rope Our first kiss wasn’t the press of lips to lips, the warm glide of tongue over teeth. You lifted my hand, bowing slightly, like some courtier of old, turned it palm up and then gazed into my eyes, watching desire smolder in response to a dry jute tongue lapping at my wrist. Thin coils forged a bond– easily cut but impossible to break. You fanned the flame, ignited something secret, spurred the departure from the woman I prtended I was and started the journey toward the woman I am. You captured the parts of me I try hardest to hide and hauled them into the light.…