Tonight, I’ve made a list— every sweet wickedness I’ll gift to you in the slow unfolding of darkened rooms, and whispered secrets.
I will trace your desires with deliberate fingers, drawing invisible maps across trembling skin, exploring every boundary until you forget there ever were any.
I will kiss you recklessly in places that blush beneath my breath, my tongue confessing what words dare not say, each touch lingering just long enough to leave you aching for more.
I’ll whisper scandalous promises against your neck, slowly pressing heat into every syllable until your heart races to match mine.
Your body will be my sweetest manuscript, every line begging for the next chapter— slow and gentle or rough and relentless, each page turned with deliberate care.
Every wicked thought I’ve ever had will find you tonight, unfolding slowly, beautifully, as I fulfill each sinful promise on my list, until there’s nothing left but your breathless surrender and my deepest satisfaction.
Tonight, we speak in numbers, my palm tracing rhythms on the soft rebellion of your skin.
You whisper “one,” like a secret, as my fingers press firmly, measuring discipline with tenderness, drawing out each trembling digit.
By “two,” you sigh, surrendering to the pleasure of the sting that binds your breath to the pulse of my heartbeat.
By “three,” we both forget the world; there’s only heat, the blush blooming across your flesh, the sacred ache we share in darkness.
“Four” and “five” spill softly from your parted lips, each strike sweeter, each moan a new secret— the quiet arithmetic of longing building slowly toward release.
At “six,” you lose count, and I remind you with another touch that pleasure demands precision— each gasp earned, each shiver carefully placed.
“Seven,” whispered in sweet defiance, your skin burns with willing repentance, my hand guiding each trembling breath, each word of submission offered willingly.
“Eight” and “nine” flow gently, numbers dissolving into sounds beyond language, into sighs and whispers, into the quiet poetry of surrender.
And by “ten,” you find your voice again, softly thanking the loving cruelty of my palm, the gentle violence of our trust.
Together, we count down the world until nothing remains but the warmth of your skin, my hand, and the quiet blessing of shared darkness.
TITLE: IN THE PINES GENRE: Semi-Erotic Short Film SETTING: Piney Woods Postcard Cabins, Larue, TX STYLE: 70s Nostalgia, Grainy Film Aesthetic LENGTH: ~20 min
FADE IN:
EXT. PINEY WOODS – DAY
Sunlight pierces through tall pine trees. A dusty car turns down a gravel path. Birds chirp softly. We glide with the car—slow, dreamy.
EXT. POSTCARD CABIN – CONTINUOUS
A tiny modern cabin on wheels, perched among the trees. Clean lines, wood-paneled, big picture windows. This is one of the Piney Woods Postcard Cabins—minimalist and tucked perfectly into nature.
The WOMAN (early 30s) exits the driver’s seat. She wears a white linen tank and shorts. Barefoot. Her hair is unbrushed. She breathes in deeply, savoring the quiet.
INT. POSTCARD CABIN – MOMENTS LATER
The interior is cozy and modern. Light-colored wood, a small kitchenette, built-in shelves, a big bed by the window. Outside, only pines and sunlight.
She moves slowly, reverently, running her fingers across the clean countertops. Everything is still.
EXT. CABIN – LATER
She sits outside at the small picnic table. A notebook. A glass of wine. No sound but wind and insects.
A faint crunch. Footsteps.
She looks up.
THE MAN (late 30s), tanned, sweat-dampened dark shirt clinging to his body, steps out of the trees. He stops when he sees her. They freeze. THE MAN Didn’t know anyone was out here. WOMAN (defensive but curious) It’s private. THE MAN You live here? WOMAN Just... staying.
A beat. THE MAN Sorry. I’ve been walking. Miles. Didn’t mean to intrude. Just needed water.
She studies him. Her breath shallows. She nods toward the cooler. WOMAN Help yourself.
He steps forward slowly. She watches him, entranced.
EXT. CABIN – DUSK
He sits near the edge of the trees, sipping from a tin mug. She leans against the cabin railing, studying him. WOMAN You just wander into people’s lives like this? THE MAN I wander. Whether I’m wanted is up to them. WOMAN So what do you think—am I the type? THE MAN (grinning) You haven’t told me to leave. WOMAN (softly) Not yet.
She steps down from the porch and walks over, handing him a second mug. Their fingers brush. She flinches—just a little. WOMAN (CONT’D) You from around here? THE MAN No one’s really from here. Just passing through. WOMAN I wanted quiet. Peace. But it doesn’t feel like peace. Feels like waiting. THE MAN Then maybe you’re not here to be alone.
They sit in silence, sipping. Wind in the pines fills the quiet.
EXT. CABIN PORCH – NIGHT
Fire pit glowing. Crickets hum. The porch is small, lit with soft string lights provided by the site.
He’s crouched, adjusting kindling. She sits on the steps with a second glass of wine. THE MAN You’re out here alone? WOMAN That a problem? THE MAN (smirks) Depends who walks out of the woods.
She holds his gaze. WOMAN Guess I’m lucky it was you.
A pause. Silence stretches between them. WOMAN I thought I came out here to be alone. THE MAN Maybe you did. WOMAN But now you’re here. And I haven’t told you to leave. THE MAN Why haven’t you? WOMAN (shrugs, soft) Maybe I’m tired of listening to myself think. THE MAN There’s peace in silence. WOMAN There’s danger in it, too. The kind that starts creeping in when no one’s watching. THE MAN What are you running from?
She looks at the fire, takes a slow sip of wine. WOMAN A version of myself I didn’t recognize anymore. THE MAN And who are you now?
She meets his gaze, defiant but vulnerable. WOMAN I don’t know yet. But I think she wants to be seen.
INT. CABIN – LATER
She paces inside. Nervous. Excited. Her white shirt clings to her skin from the firelight’s heat.
A knock.
She opens the door. THE MAN May I?
She nods slowly. He steps inside.
INT. CABIN – MOMENTS LATER
Silence. They’re close. Outside, the fire pit flickers. THE MAN Come here.
She obeys without hesitation.
He cups her jaw. Kisses her hard. She gasps, wraps her arms around him.
They crash into the wall. Mouths desperate. Hands exploring. Her tank slides up. His shirt presses tight.
She moans softly. WOMAN Don’t stop.
MATCH CUT TO:
INT. CABIN BED – LATER
Bodies tangled in golden sheets. Her back arches. His hand grips her waist. The scene is visual poetry—shadows, lace, sweat, breath. Morning light filters in through the massive window beside the bed.
EXT. PORCH – DAWN
He lights a cigarette. Shirt now loose around his shoulders. He looks out into the woods, legs propped on the step, beside the fire pit.
INT. BED – CONTINUOUS
She sleeps. Peaceful. Changed.
EXT. WOODS – LATER
He walks away, fading into the pines.
INT. CABIN – MORNING
She wakes. Sees the empty space beside her. Looks out the big window.
EXT. CABIN – CONTINUOUS
She steps barefoot into the forest. Pauses.
Smiles.
FADE OUT.
END.
STORYBOARD BREAKDOWN (SELECTED SCENES)
Scene: Arrival at Cabin
Shot 1: Wide static shot from ground level of trees parting as the car pulls in slowly.
Shot 2: Medium tracking as she steps out of the car, barefoot onto pine needles.
Shot 3: Interior pan of cabin from her POV — warm, soft shadows.
Scene: First Encounter at Dusk
Shot 1: Wide shot — she leans on the porch railing, he sits at tree’s edge.
Shot 2: Over-the-shoulder close-up on her handing him the mug.
Shot 3: Tight two-shot with slow dolly — silent tension between them.
Scene: Fire Pit Encounter
Shot 1: Medium two-shot — firelight flickers between them.
Shot 2: Close-up on his hands feeding kindling.
Shot 3: Over-the-shoulder as she stares into the fire. Her face lit from below.
Shot 4: Profile close-up on her turning toward him — the silence stretching.
Scene: Cabin Intimacy
Shot 1: Slow dolly in on their bodies pressed to the cabin wall — a shaft of light from a single lamp.
Shot 2: Close-up — his hand brushing her thigh, focus rack to her eyes closing.
Shot 3: Silhouette — their forms through lace curtains.
Scene: Morning After
Shot 1: Wide — she lies in bed, sunlight illuminating her skin.
Shot 2: Exterior — he smokes, backlit by sunrise through trees.
Shot 3: Final wide — she walks barefoot into the woods, light haze.
SOUNDTRACK & MOOD REFERENCES
Score Style: Analog warmth, vinyl crackle, ambient tension. Avoid traditional scoring. Use textures that feel like memory.
Track Suggestions / Mood References:
Mazzy Star – “Fade Into You” (slow longing, dreamlike)
A.R. Kane – “Love from Outer Space” (nostalgic and sultry)
Angelo Badalamenti – Twin Peaks Theme (for mystery and intimacy)
Broadcast – “Come On Let’s Go” (early 70s lo-fi pop tension)
Nico – “These Days” (final scene tone — calm, changed)
Sound Design:
Use silence to contrast nature’s ambience: wind in trees, cicadas, her breath.
Soft fire crackle during intimacy.
Muffled forest sounds at dawn — birds, dry leaves, fading footsteps.
I took my heart from my chest and gave it to you without wrapping— no ribbon, no pageantry, just raw, and beating, and yours.
It doesn’t ask for anything. It just wants to stay— next to your heart, beside your breath, near enough to break if you ever needed to hold something that won’t leave.
Keep it, love. I was only carrying it until I found your hands.
