“I am Heat, and I have come for her!”

Somewhere in the middle of her chest I take hold. I hunker down for awhile gaining strength. She feels it. I know she does, because she moves uncomfortably, pulling at her clothes. It is her feeble attempt at getting some air movement between her skin and her clothes.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I creep farther, invading her arms, shoulders and neck before flushing to fill her cheeks. Her ears turn visibly red; she is engulfed, feeling the burn now. In a rush I move from her upper body, pulsing quickly down to her toes. Before long I rise to the top again. I am waves of heat going up and down, up and down.

The first time I entered her body uninvited, it was a rush of energy that was almost a pleasure to her, but soon my strength improved. I practiced until I became perfectly efficient at filling all her tissue, her muscles, veins, cells and (best of all) her mind with my gift of heat.

Pleasure is no longer associated with my presence. Now her experience is more akin to an uncontrollable freight train to hell. I want to whisper in her ear, “Fear me!” but I feel pity for her in this moment.

Her usually straight hair is forming into ringlets. Drops fall from her face onto her white blouse. Drip. Drip. I’m doing my job well, aren’t I?

She focuses every ounce of her resolve, longing for relief from my hot, tight grasp. Ha! She can’t get to the window fast enough. She can’t rip off her outer garments quick enough. The panic overcomes her. She’s frantic.

“Open the window for God’s sake,” she begs. “Where is the damn fan?” 

Don’t look at me. I don’t know where her fan is. I don’t have time to hide things from her. I’m busy making her sweat. And I do so relish the time we have together. Her body is my vessel; I am her uninvited furnace.

Too soon I become tired of my little game. She is flustered and soaking wet. I am satisfied that my job (for now) is done. Even in this moment as I release my grip on her, I vow to take over her body again soon. For weeks, for months, possibly for years, she will live in dread of me.

Feel me. I am Heat. I am the heat of menopause, and I’m coming for you next.