The myth tells us that Eve ate an apple. Before this first bite she had no concept of apple, apple being the code word for delight. The idea of sweet. The sugar on the tongue. An apple stood for kiss, a kiss stood for the knowledge that we are naked with each other. The nakedness led to other kisses. Kisses on hidden, secret flesh. A kiss on the breast, the nipple sucked into the mouth and nipped briefly by the back teeth, the idea that kisses can move down to between parted thighs, kisses as soft and gentle with one pair of lips standing in for another. With this in mind, Eve ate of the apple.
She ate and it was a small thing, a perfectly contained piece of fruit wrapped in skin, a fruit with an end point, and yet, when it was ended eve thought about the apple. She thought about it in the shower, on the couch, in her bed. Her mouth itched for kissing. Her fingers returned to her lips as if the juice of the apple was there to taste on her fingertips. She regretted not savouring the apple for longer, not taking smaller bites that would make it last. She regretted not eating the core when even the seeds and the pith were something new and wonderous. She would bring the apple to her Adam. She would make him eat when he was prone to resist such temptations. He clamped shut his teeth and would not bite. There was juice from the apple on her lips but he would not lick them. Succubus, Eve had her way with him. Her way which was the way of someone starved for fruit and wracked by self-denial.