Aphrodisiac

The phone rings.

I wait impatiently, he picks up and says, hello. 

That is all it takes. He speaks, I respond, but in truth, I am lost. 

The timber in his voice is melodious, the base tones thrum through my senses, reverberating in every atom of my being.

Yes, I am in love, with you, with your voice. 

I am addicted to it.

I want you to say my name. You never do.

I want you to sing to me. You shy away.

I want to hear you speak. You never say much.

Your voice teases me,  tests me, draws me in and then pushes me out, it tantalises my very being.

It is, my aphrodisiac.