Love and war continuously dominate every aspect of our game. This chessboard, with its singular pieces, represents more than just a game of strategy. In this game, logic and preciseness are what we will need to win. And love and devotion are the end game we are seeking.
We unintentionally fall prey to a game that is unpredictable, becoming forever intertwined with its checkered board pattern, we are masterminds at hiding our feelings from each other, making it so subsequently easy to play games with one another. You’re looking at me as I try desperately not to look at you, not wanting your mere presence to disarm me, like you always seem to do, invariably turning my cunning mind to mush. You stare me down with an animalistic intent in your eyes. Drawing my body to yours with no physical touch, causing my whole being to tremble, as my heart races with every movement that you make.
We are on opposite sides of the chessboard, denying these feelings that we know to be true. I represent the ivory pieces, and you claim the black chess pieces as your own. You cheat, and I lie, imitating faces like stone, we begin plotting our next moves. I convey your knight, and you take two of my pawns. I hover over your pawn, and you grant me a grin, blindsiding me with those dimples that always leaves me flustered. Focusing on your charisma and not the game loses me, my bishop.
I berate my foolishness from concaving to that old trap. Now I simmer in my seat, watching you lick your lips and chuckle victoriously. Sometimes I wanted to cheat to accomplish what I wish to, cleansing the board every time you seem too close to winning. Wishing that I could change the rules, knock down your king, and let this beautiful queen rule.
It’s my turn to demonstrate my next strategy. I bite down on the bottom lip, nibbling on the plumpness between my teeth while fluttering my eyelashes. I giggle with the exhilarating knowledge that my teasing nature drives you insane, making you yearn for what only I can give you. Your nostrils flare, your jaw sets like granite, and your pupils dilate, letting me know I have you right where I want you. Before blowing you an air kiss with a flick of my wrist, I smoothly collect your knight.
My body temperature rises from the anticipation of your next move. This simmering heat within me beginning to peak, with our pheromones exuding in the air, the chess pieces are hurriedly cleared off the chessboard. I lose my knight, I take your rooks, we lose our pawns, I gain your queen, and you gather my bishop and defeat my queen. Then with a final staggering move, you capture my king and win the game in which I almost prevailed. These games that we play, the passionate loving that forever transpires after the war, only intensifies what I have always known to be true. You might win the game today, but I will forever dominate the game that no one will ever come close to winning you.