AnticiPation

The rain soaked her dress, clinging to her skin like a second layer. She didn’t rush to move, letting it weigh her down, feeling it drip slowly from her hair, tracing her neck, pooling at the small of her back

.The street was almost empty. The heat in the air was thick and sticky, smelling of the anticipation of a storm, crackling like electricity.

She didn’t need the cigarette. Not really. But she lit it anyway, taking a long drag, the smoke curling around her fingers—an excuse to stay still. An excuse to breathe.

The scent of rain and smoke hung in the air, clinging to her wet skin, and she didn’t have to look to know his eyes were on her. His gaze burned, sharp and steady, tracing the wet fabric of her dress, the curve of her shoulders, the way her body tensed with each drop of rain soaking through the fabric.

“You came,” he said, his voice low, almost questioning.

“I always do,” she answered, her voice thick with the promise of something they both understood.

She stepped forward, slowly, like the ground beneath her feet was part of a rhythm only she knew. The rain didn’t bother her. It only made the heat inside burn brighter, sharper.

She drew the cigarette from her lips, the embers glowing softly in the dark. She held it out to him, but just as his fingers reached for it, she pulled it back, her eyes locking with his.

“You don’t get everything,” she said, her voice steady, a dare in her words.

He leaned forward, his jaw tight, his gaze never wavering from hers. She didn’t look away. And neither did he.

She smoked the rest of it in silence, the smoke trailing into the cool night air, but the tension only built, heavier with every passing second.

She knew this moment wasn’t about what they had—or hadn’t—done before. It was about what they could do next. About what she could make him want without saying a word.

She flicked the cigarette to the ground, grinding it out beneath the heel of her boot, stepping closer, feeling him finally break—just a little.

“You want me?” she asked, barely more than a whisper.

His answer was in the way his eyes darkened, how his lips parted just slightly.
“Then lose yourself.”

He smiled, “How so?”

“I want you on the edge, quivering, unravelling, desperate.”

“Oh, baby, I’m fucking desperate.”

She moved in Closer.

“Then maybe… Just maybe, I’ll let you have me.”

Written, composed, and performed by © Samira Wyld 2025.
Featuring samples © Samira Wyld, from the single Closer.

A Wyld And Untamed Production 2025

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