Shape.
His kneaded the dough, enjoying it's firm elasticity beneath his fingers. Shape.
Celeste was like that. Firm. Yet pliable. She let him bend her to his will with little resistance. And god damn... she had a shape.
As he coaxed the dough into long snakes, visions of Celeste's creamy smooth skin flooded his memory. His hands worked on autopilot, braiding the challah loaf. What they really wanted to be doing was kneading her delicious rear end.
He loved the ripples each time he spanked her full bottom.
Shape. He admired his challah loaf.
I really love the tactile imagery in this piece. It's clear without being overdone and is nicely... earthy, I suppose. I can effortlessly visualize this guy getting lost in pleasant thoughts as he goes about the mindless task of kneading dough.
JLea! I love this! So glad you wrote again. I worked in a bakery and the nicest part was how alive/ visceral the dough felt when you were working on it, and I really felt that in this story.