“…and Marlea’s teacher said she needs to work on her subtraction.”

Tom grunted his acknowledgment, but Sherry knew that his mind was elsewhere. Silence stretched between them. This was their first night in two years without the kids, and yet they still dominated the conversation. She and Tom used to talk for hours on end about everything and nothing. When had that changed?

She pushed back from the table, her chair screeching across the hardwood floor. Tom looked up, concerned.

“Let’s save dessert for a little later, OK?” she asked. “I need to do a couple of things first.”

“Sure, honey. I’m going to watch the game – maybe we can do it at halftime.”

She fled from the room, seeking sanctuary in their bedroom. The woman she saw in the mirror was still attractive, her body still shapely beneath the standard “soccer mom” uniform of khakis and a polo shirt. What would happen when the kids were gone, when her soccer mom role was over? Would she find herself married to a stranger?

Was she already?

The reflection smiled slightly. Tonight she would find out.

---

“Go! Run! Run!” Tom was shouting at the running back with an enthusiasm saved only for sports. Sherry heard the familiar music indicating that the halftime show was starting.

“Honey, are you ready for dessert?” she called from the dining room.

“Sure, I’ll be right in.” The recliner creaked as he left its comfortable embrace.

He stopped in the doorway. The room was dim, bathed only in the soft light of candles. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Sherry emerged from the shifting shadows. Her favorite apron was tied around her neck; his body responded before his mind realized that she wore nothing underneath.

Her hips swayed seductively as she slowly walked across the room. Bemused, he let her lead him to the table. She pulled out a chair and gently pushed him into it.

“Cat got your tongue?” she purred. “Let’s see if we can find it.” Her mouth met his, gently coaxing. As he returned her kiss she became more insistent, more demanding. His lips parted slightly and her tongue probed his mouth, tasting faintly of wine and chocolate.

“Nope, it’s still in there,” she laughed, pulling away. Tom tried to grab her, but Sherry danced away just out of reach.

“I thought you wanted dessert,” she said.

“I think I’ll skip it tonight,” Tom replied. He shifted in his chair, trying to make his suddenly too-tight pants a little more comfortable.

Sherry’s full lips pouted. “But I went to all this work to make it. Don’t you want to at least try it?”

Before he could answer, she turned towards the table. His suspicions were right – she wasn’t wearing anything under her apron. He watched the candlelight play over her skin, dancing over the sleek lines of her back, highlighting the graceful curve of her hip before disappearing into intriguing shadows. The view improved as she leaned over the table, stretching her body as she reached for something on the other side.

He was half out of his chair before he even realized what he was doing.

“Sit down and relax,” she said, turning back.

She walked towards him carrying a tray. He could see small jars of different sizes, a squeeze bottle and at least one tall can. Sherry set it down on a chair next to him then stepped in front of it before he could see any more.

“Close your eyes,” she said. Tom did, images of her sexy back burned on his eyelids. They flew open again as he felt her unbuttoning his shirt.

“No dessert unless you keep your eyes closed,” she said, covering them with her hand. He complied, more than ready to see what came next.

Cool air brushed his chest as his shirt slid off his shoulders. Warm liquid dripped on to him, creating a river that was slowly moving down his body. Sherry’s tongue lapped at its banks, following the same path.

“Mmmm…chocolate…” she murmured. He opened his eyes and watched as she licked her way down his body, creating delicious patterns with her tongue. He shifted as she neared his waistband, wishing he was wearing sweatpants instead of jeans.

Sherry looked up at him, licking the chocolate syrup from her lips. “Is dessert making your pants a little tight?” she asked with a sensual smile. She deliberately trailed her hands down his body, stopping at his belt.

“Maybe this will help.” She slowly loosened his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, then slowly eased the zipper down.

“Ready for some more dessert?” she asked. Before he could respond, she picked up a maraschino cherry from the tray. He watched her full lips close over the stem, delicately holding it in her mouth. She bent over, offering it to him. The cherry slowly entered his mouth, its sweet flavor teasing his tongue. He grabbed it with his teeth, feeling Sherry’s warm breath on his cheek. Her lips brushed his, then she pulled back, taking the stem and leaving behind the luscious cherry.

When she turned back to the dessert tray, he couldn’t take any more. He grabbed her apron strings and pulled her back. Off balance, she fell into his lap, laughing.

Looking into her face, he blindly reached for the tray, grabbing the first thing his hand touched. A quick glance revealed that he’d grabbed a can of whipped cream.

“Hmmm…wonder what I could do with this?” His free hand caressed her bare spine, then drifted up to her neck. The apron strings fell apart and the material fell away, revealing the soft curves beneath.

“Eat your dessert,” she whispered.

About six hours into his wife’s surgery, he began to wonder if his wife’s confidence was worth all this fuss. After seven hours, he was pacing. Just as the eighth hour was beginning, the doctors told him that his wife was now a B-cup, and that they were closing her up. Two more hours passed before the surgeon came out again and announced that all stitching was completed. All he could think about was how badly he wanted a beer.

Instead, he fumbled in his wallet with shaky hands for change so he could grab another soda before making the requisite round of phone calls. He let out a frustrated sigh when he realized that he had used his last dollar bill somewhere between his wife’s tummy tuck and her new right breast, when his eyes settled on her purse sitting at his feet. She’d handed it to him just before the doctors wheeled her away that morning.

He thought back at the sight of her, the hospital gown clinging to her left breast, and then dropping down into the concave indentation where her right breast had once been, the low neckline showing the reddened flesh, permanently darkened from the radiation. Her hair was just coming back, gunmetal grey where it had once been dark, with a little tuft at the nape of her neck that had stubbornly refused to fall out during the chemo and radiation. How long had it been since he’d nibbled on that neck playfully? Too long. Ten years, fifteen, maybe.

He’d gone fishing on their twentieth anniversary. He had remembered shortly after landing his second fish that fell woefully under the limit. He’d thought, I could be doing better things, with the luck I’m having, and then he’d had a jolt of realization. On the way home, he’d stopped at a gas station and examined their knick-knacks, and had settled on a little turtle figurine. Years ago, he had caught a turtle for her, and it had been her favorite pet. Surely she’d like this little wooden recreation. His daughter still liked to laugh at how he’d been greeted with accusation instead of gratitude: “You leave my things alone! Put him back on the shelf where you got him from!” Now the little turtle sat next to its twin on the shelf. She’d had it for years, and he’d never noticed.

He sighed with regret as he dug through his wife’s purse for her wallet. He’d regretted a lot lately. Mostly, he regretted not letting his wife know how much he loved her. He located the thick leather tri-fold, stuffed with credit cards to places he’d never heard of, pictures of their grandkids, and carefully sorted bills. He was just peeling off a one from the stack when he noticed the edge of a frayed sheet of notebook paper, tucked into the bottommost pocket of the wallet.

Carefully, he slid the page out, and noted the deep creases. Clearly, this was something that had been carried for a long time, folded and refolded until it was close to falling apart. He opened it up, careful not to tear the paper, and for the first time since his wife’s diagnosis, cried.

Written in his own shaky hand was a poem he’d copied from a card nearly thirty years before, shortly before they’d been married. He remembered how she’d laughed at him when he admitted that he hadn’t written it himself. There was no question of why he hadn’t bought her the card; back then they couldn’t afford things like that. He had no clue that she’d carried it with her all these years.

He was still standing there, staring at the paper, when the doctor came back into the waiting room. “She’s awake now. Do you want to see her?”

His thirst forgotten, he folded the paper, slid it back where he’d found it, and swallowed the lump in his throat. He followed the doctor to a small room full of machines and hoses and tubes, and somewhere in the middle, his wife. His love.

“Hi,” she said weakly.

“Hi,” he said, as he leaned down and kissed his past, his present, his future.

She was waiting for him.

When he walked into the room, she was standing at the window looking out over the city. The lights of distant skyscrapers flickered around her like thousands of tiny stars worshiping her beauty. Raven-black hair flowed down her back like a dark river, its unknown waters waiting to be explored. Smooth shoulders were bare except for tiny straps of red lace. More lace covered the rest of her body, teasing his eye with shadows that suggested everything yet revealed nothing.

He walked to her silently, knowing she could see his reflection in the darkened window. He reached for her hair, its silky tresses cool to the touch as he pulled it aside. Underneath, her neck arched gracefully, like that of a regal swan. His lips brushed against its warmth, feeling the life gently pulsing beneath the surface. Her head tilted slightly, exposing more of its vulnerable surface to his touch. He tested her skin, tasting its faint saltiness and something else uniquely feminine, uniquely her.

She moaned softly as he continued his tender exploration. Her perfectly shaped earlobe was crowned with a single pearl. He delicately took it into his mouth and nibbled at the sensitive flesh. She shivered, a silent acknowledgement of his affect on her body.

He brought his hands to her shoulders, his fingers slightly rough against her perfect skin. He paused, worried that his work-worn hands might be too coarse for such a delicate beauty. Sensing his hesitancy, her hand covered his, then slowly lowered it, guiding it to an area even more sensitive. His other hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her tightly to him.

Her head fell back against his chest, inviting him to more intimacy. He kissed a path down her shoulder, pushing aside the delicate strap. Black hair cascaded over him as she shifted, hiding her softness.

He moved in response and caught their reflection in the window. Her small frame was almost lost against his strength. Yet when their eyes met, he saw no fear, only feminine challenge and anticipation.

The teasing bite on her neck elicited a deep moan. His body tightened in a primal response. He could feel the blood pounding through his body, demanding satisfaction. But he held back, building the tension. Her hips started to gently move against his body in an ancient rhythm.

He turned his attention to her other shoulder, caressing her with his mouth, silently worshipping her body. He groaned as the final scrap of lace was gently pushed from her shoulder. The remaining material clung to her body, trapped in place between their bodies.

Their eyes again met in the window. He reached out to close the curtains. The city disappeared from site as red lace pooled on the floor.

Cindy slowly started to open her eyes. Something had intruded on her sleep. Maybe one of the candles had crackled and in the stillness of the bedroom it had startled her gently from sleep.

She peeked from below hooded lids and took in the flickering light of the remaining candles that still sputtered in an attempted to light the large room.

She remembered lighting the candles earlier in the evening. Jim was due home at eleven and she had wanted to have a special surprise waiting for him.

She felt the silky smoothness of her gown below the thin sheet, her movements causing it to rise up and caress her thighs. The bodice piece twisted and released one of its twin occupants. The sheet brushed her exposed nipple and sent a small shiver through her as her mind again went through her plans for the evening.

Why hadn’t Jim come home? What time was it? Had he missed his flight? Had he been delayed in some other way? Her mind raced through the possibilities.

She shifted in mental agitation, and her gown again moved against her. It flowed over her tanned flesh like crystal clear water over a pebbled river bed that had been worn smooth from eons of water flowing over it. She couldn’t stop the soft moan that eased up from her very core. A moan that spoke of sexual tension unreleased, and frustration, and just a tiny touch of fear mingled together.

Where was he?

She became still, was that a noise she had heard? Her eyes popped open in the gloom of the four poster bed. She caught her flickering reflection in the mirrored canopy, a gasp of surprise leaving her before she realized the reflected movement was her own.

Only one candle sputtered in the quiet room, its brief glow casting more shadow than light.

She looked to her left trying to see the clock she kept on the headboard of the bed, but the flickering light threw only shadow that far into the room.

She pushed her feet against the sheet, pulling it from her upper body. She slipped slowly free of its grasp and went deathly still.

Was that a gasp she heard in the stillness? Fear brought an instant reaction from her body as it tightened and her nipples hardened. A bead of sweat glistened on her chest between her breasts and slowly streaked downward as she sat up. Her other breast freed itself from its silky confines with the sudden movement. She felt coolness cross her and felt the tightening of the muscles in her chest. Her nipples ached from the increased tightness.

Her groin felt warm and she cursed the body that reacted as if from a lover's touch. What was wrong with her?

Jim had only been gone six months this time. She could handle it if he was delayed. Why was she suddenly hearing things? Did she miss him more then even she realized? Again her mind was filled with more questions than answers.

She sighed and gently slipped down between the sheets again. She pulled the thin covering only to her waist, liking the cool air that brushed across her taunt nipples and seemed to try to caress her form at all its curves and hollows.

She relaxed, laying her head once more upon his pillow. She inhaled deeply, taking in his scent. It seemed stronger tonight. She smiled and snuggled her face deeper into its folds.

She slept. Her dreams erotic and sensual.

Gentle hands upon her ankles; their roughness in stark contrast to her supple smooth skin, rose slowly, making light circular motions as they journeyed up her calves. Stopping at her knees to gentle apply pressure at each one, moving them slowly apart. Her body responded by opening itself to the gentle persuasion, a sigh slipped through her lips. The hands continued their slowly movement upward, gently gliding across her inner thighs and continuing their lazy circular motions; as if the world and time itself had stopped and there was no need to rush.

A finger gently stroked her; she gasped as pleasure shot through her and suddenly jerked her from her slumber. The sensations still vibrating through her, she panted in the darkness, sweat beading her flesh, making her gown slightly damp and clingy. God she missed him!

Hands moved upward and cupped her tender flesh, her gasp swallowed by moist tender lips as they gently applied pressure to her lips.

JIM! She tasted him, knowing him by smell and feel, and knowing his kiss. She opened herself to him and he groaned in response. He deepened the kiss and moved his body above hers, the sheet yanked from between them and tossed to the floor. His elbows and forearms holding his weight above her as he slowly lowered himself onto her, her arms wrapping around his back to pull him closer, her mouth opening and her tongue darting between his lips to find and war with his own.

She pulled him closer, her hips moving against his, looking for the perfect connection, her breath coming quicker. She arched into him, his body shaking as his control wavered. He shifted to free his right hand and gently pushed her down, his tongue finding a nipple and teasing it into rigid attention; he lathered it with his attention and then moved his body down hers and let his tongue blaze a path to her center. She squirmed beneath him, arching to meet his touch; she reached down and found his hair, tugging gently and then more aggressively when he didn’t respond to her quiet demand.

Finally he moved above her...

I reached over and caressed her leg, my hand massaging the soft skin. She gave me another of her radiant smiles, but with a hint of mischief. She laid her hand on top of mine, and began to pull it further up her leg, underneath her skirt. I smiled back and let her take me where she willed. How could I have been so lucky?

----------

My life was stuck in a rut, and everybody knew it. My schedule never changed from week to week, and it hardly changed from day to day. On weekdays I went to work at the bank from seven until four where I did the same repetitive and mundane work. After work I would head to the bar until eight. Always the same bar, Louie’s on 49th, where I’d sit in the same spot four stools from the far end, and order the same Irish lager. Worst of all, the rut didn’t have anybody else in it. People seemed to think that my boring life was infectious, and that by associating with me they could find themselves in a similar rut. Either that or they were afraid of the arm braces.

It’s a problem I’ve had for a long time. I had a mild case of muscular dystrophy as a kid, and though the doctors did a great job, my body had deteriorated quite a bit. I was forced to wear arm braces all throughout life just to get around. I was teased all throughout school, and though people are nicer now, they still don’t give me the time of day. I see the same people in the bar all the time, and if any one of them had ever tried to say hi, my life wouldn’t have been nearly as dismal.

I hobbled into Louie’s one Tuesday night and the bartender started filling a glass of lager before he even saw me: all he needed to hear was the clack of my braces. But today things changed.

I stopped in the middle of the bar room floor because there was a woman in my seat. She had long, black hair that reached halfway down her back, a golden tanned complexion, a plain, black, knee length skirt, and a turquoise blouse. I barely noticed these things right away though; I just noticed that my seat was occupied. My entire schedule was thrown off. I stood there like a buffoon for a few more seconds until deciding that I would sit six stools from the far end. I figured that was close enough to my favorite spot, but it would give the woman a wide enough berth.

As I clacked my way over, the woman turned and looked at me. Her dark, brown eyes looked at my face, ignoring the arm braces. She smiled at me, and my heart nearly stopped. I continued shakily to my pre-selected spot and sat down. The bartender placed my lager in front of me.

“Hi, I’m Joy,” the woman said. I glanced over at her, and she was looking in my direction. I looked behind me to see if anybody else was around that she might have been talking to instead of me. She giggled at my confusion and said, “Yes I’m talking to you silly. What’s your name?”

“I… er… uh, I’m Andy.”

“Nice to meet you Andy.” She got up and moved one seat over to sit right next to me. “I’ve never been in this bar before, what do they make well here?”

“Um… I don’t really, uh… drink variety… er, I just have the Irish lager, I don’t really try other things.” She was going to think that I was pathetic for my stammering and my rut.

“Well, let’s start, I’ll even buy,” she said. She summoned over the bartender and ordered two White Russians. “Cheers,” she said as she lifted the glass to her lips.

“Cheers,” I replied demurely, staring at the drink a moment longer before hesitantly tipping the glass back. It was excellent.

“Well, now that we know they make good White Russians, where are you from Andy?” She kept looking me in the face, and her deep eyes reflected a real interest in what I was going to say. So we started talking. As time went on I stopped stammering so much and just enjoyed her company. We talked about everything, and she never once asked about the braces.

Time flew by as we sat there in conversation, and before I knew it the clock struck ten. The bar was nearly empty except for us. I had already stayed two hours longer than usual and hadn’t even noticed. Our White Russians were empty, but we had been too distracted to order more. She had just finished telling me about how she broke her arm climbing a tree when she was twelve, so I told her about the dystrophy I had as a kid. “And now I’m stuck in braces the rest of my life,” I finished. “They’ve been the bane of my existence for so long… they keep me from doing what I want in life, from traveling, from meeting people, from…”

She put her hand on my leg while I was speaking, shutting me up abruptly. She stared me in the eyes and told me, “They’re as constricting as you make them. You met me with them on, didn’t you?” I nodded. “Well, don’t let them end your life. And don’t let them end tonight.”

She continued to look me straight in the eyes, and a smile grew slowly on her face. I smiled back, overcome with emotion. I slowly moved my hand over to her leg and caressed her soft skin. Her smile took on a hint of mischief.

He sat staring at the tile floors in the entry way to his apartment building. Upstairs his father was zoned out in front of the TV, clueless. He tried to count the number of zipper teeth on the duffel bag that rested betwixt his feet, but it was futile, the butterflies in his stomach fluttered anxious and exciting thoughts up to his brain.

His cellphone buzzed in his pocket, he was so tingly all over he almost didn't notice it. With hands as clammy and cold as Easter ham, he flipped it open.

"I'm here"

The blood rushed to his head, blocking out all sensory input. He grabbed his bag and checked his pockets, wallet, pitiful billfold, keys. He pushed open the heavy metal door and stepped out into the drizzly twilight.

He scanned the street and saw the lone strange car with a figure inside parked a few houses down under the buzzing sodium street lamp. He jaunted onto the blacktop and walked down to the driver's side window and politely knocked. The figure inside sat with her face hidden in her hands and her head down. He couldn't help but grin at her.

He jogged around to the passenger side and opened the door, throwing his bag in the back and plopping down next to her for the first time, they nearly occupied the same space. Invisible heat and electricity passed between their arms, almost like a science fair project.

"I was so lost, but I'm here," she said, "I made it."

"I know you made it, it can be confusing near route 1, but," she cut him off with a fierce hug over the arm rest. She buried her face against his light fall jacket and inhaled deeply, her fingers twisting into his fabric. He held her just as fast, kissing the top of her head and breathing deeply the freshly natural scent of her hair. They stayed as such for what felt like an eternity, an embrace for all times. So many long hours spent conversing over the phone, or in correspondence, or other forms of electronic communication. A chance meeting, a casual exchange of information, a deep conversation, a soul connection, a sobering truth, the hell of logistical separation, now finally surmounted.

"We better get going, no? Someone is going to think I'm killing a hooker in my car," he joked. She leaned back and wiped away a tear, laughing. The rental car came to life and they drove away together.

He couldn't stop staring at her, she was finally within his reach again. It was a secret tryst, wildly exciting for him, impossibly dangerous for her. A May/December affair between two old souls who felt a completeness with each other like with none other.

They pulled into the hotel lot that would be their home for the next week. Two adults playing a desperate game of house, the card keys their secret passage to happiness.

He effortlessly tossed her two giant bags onto the bed and his own measly one, collapsing next to them as she checked out the room. It was perfect, it was heaven inside four walls. She lay down next to him and their eyes met across the duvet. Another moment of eternity until he finally grinned and she laughed, pulling her head onto his chest and falling away dead asleep.

He maneuvered her onto the bed and lay behind her, holding tight, falling asleep with her, the rhythm of her breathing and warmth of her body making him drowsy.

Eyes crack, it's so dark. The rain pounds the window, angry fists of lightning strike the earth.

"Am I really here, did I make it?"

"Yes, we're here", he said in his sleepy daze, squeezing her tighter. She turned to face him in the darkness, a stray beam of light from the outside illuminated her pallid face and soft grin. He kissed her. A deep soul kiss, it obliterated thought, shattered timidness. A frenzy of cool hands against warm skin. They made love, as sweet and as powerful an act as any couple can muster, wrought from pure affection and longing, the crescendo nearly tossing both from the precipice of consciousness. He nuzzled against her neck and held fast. He felt something wet against his nose. She was crying. He felt dread at first until she spoke.

"Seven days. It's over in seven days, what will we do?", she asked helplessly.

"Do you love me?"

"Yes, of course," she replied

"Then love me. It's not the end okay? It's only the beginning," he whispered, though it was not to be.

The days passed in harmonious bliss. The week ended, and terrible tragedy befell them both as they parted. A tragedy of the heart. Days turned to weeks, to months. Time made a fool of his sentiment, however daring and heartfelt it was. Fiery lovers became old friends. Passion decayed away into comfort. Somewhere in their minds they had created a glorious leather-bound, dusty photo album of their lives together, but in the end they each held a Polaroid of their time spent in room 107. A crystal clear memory of a perfect love that would never dull with the passage of time.

“Remember – rescue me in an hour,” I whispered.

“Don’t worry, I set an alarm on my phone. I won’t forget to call,” Sarah whispered back. Plastering a big smile on my face, I walked to the door.

My Aunt Jenny is a wonderful, sweet woman. A wonderful, sweet woman intent on marrying me off to a stable, secure man. Sounds great. Unfortunately, there is a reason why her selections are stable and secure – nobody else would be caught dead with them. And so, once more I found myself preparing for another painful blind date. Lucky for me, at 8:30 Sarah was going to suffer a severe case of food poisoning and her ever-devoted roommate, me, would be forced to rush home.

Taking a deep breath, I plastered a smile on my face and opened the door.

The man on the other side didn’t look at all like my normal Aunt Jenny date. For one thing, he was taller than I am, standing several inches over my five-foot, five inch height. Short dark hair curled slightly around his ears, framing his face. And what a face it was! It was full of hard, chiseled angles that gave the impression of a strong, determined personality. Broad shoulders tapered down to narrow hips. I found myself wondering if the view from the back was as good as from the front. This man simply screamed animal magnetism.

I was speechless.

Sarah came to my rescue, pushing me out the door with a cheery “You two have a good time.”

“Hi, I’m Luke.” His deep voice had a strange effect on my senses, a feeling of déjà vu. Then he smiled, his perfectly white teeth complimenting already-great looks. A dimple appeared to the left of his mouth.

“I’m Carly.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. “ He held out his hand expectantly.

Out of reflex I put my hand into his. A tingle shot up my arm as his warm hand closed over mine. When he applied gentle pressure, I could feel my heart speed up. I suddenly had an image of that strong hand gliding over my body, coaxing, caressing, squeezing… My face flushed at where my thoughts – and his hand – were headed. I pushed them out of my mind and started towards his car.

When I saw the dark green Jaguar parked at the curb, I wondered if he even knew my Aunt Jenny.

He opened the door for me, then walked around to the driver’s side. The temperature in the car rose by ten degrees as I admired the view from the back. The man obviously took excellent care of his body.

He got in and his hands stroked the leather-covered steering wheel. With a flick of his wrist the big engine roared to life.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I thought we’d have dinner at my place. I don’t often get a chance to cook for a beautiful woman.”

I murmured my agreement and the powerful car surged away from the curb. Within minutes we were at his home.

I could feel the heat of his body close behind me as I stepped into his foyer. The smooth sound of jazz drifted into the dimly lit space.

“Is that Duke Ellington I hear?” I asked.

His body stilled behind me. “You know jazz?” he asked softly.

I turned to face him, curious about his reaction. I was startled by the intent look on his face. His eyes locked with mine, piercing, compelling, as if they were trying to see deep into my soul.

“Know it? I love it,” I whispered.

Suddenly I was in his arms, crushed against his chest. The world slowed as I watched his head lower until our lips met. Then it exploded.

His warm mouth sought mine, insistent and demanding. Heat pooled in my body as I responded with a fervor I didn’t know I possessed. But it wasn’t enough to passively accept his attentions – I wanted more. My mouth parted and he deepened the kiss, probing and searching. I wrapped my fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. His hand pressed harder into the small of my back, crushing me against his hard body.

Suddenly my world tilted and spun around me, then a soft surface met my back. I dimly realized that we had moved to a sofa. His lips left mine and I opened my eyes, bereft at the loss. My disappointment must have shown, because he his dimple flashed briefly.

“Don’t worry, we have all night,” he said, dropping his keys on the end table.

“Is that all?” I asked, stretching out on the sofa. I opened my arms, inviting him back.

Our bodies met, molding themselves to each other. My tongue reached out and brushed his lips, teasing, and I felt his heartbeat speed under my hand. My pulse raced in response, thrilling over this new power. My fingers fumbled over the buttons on his shirt. One by one they opened, slowly revealing his powerful chest. His strong hands caressed my body, temporarily distracting me from my mission.

My phone rang, a jarring contrast to the jazz. He started to break away.

I pulled him back.

I wouldn’t need rescued tonight.

I close the shower door and look through the picture window of my bedroom out at the sunset over the ocean. I can see my slung-back Adirondack chair, stuffed with cushions, reclining on the beach waiting for me. I love falling asleep by the ocean. I know Darren will come home from his late shift and gather me up to put me in bed. I stretch toward the ceiling feeling the burn in my muscles complaining about their busy day. In the mirror I see rivulets of water racing each other over the curves of my body. Forgoing a towel I throw my silk robe over my shoulders, enjoying the feel of the air drying my skin instead. I set off for a Long Island iced tea from the fridge and the chair by the sea.

I approach my refuge looking out across the coppery waves. The sun, seeing I made it down alright, slips behind the ocean; the velvety orange and purple twilight embracing the sea and sky around me. I pour my tired body into the cushions. A smile creeps to my lips and I thank the sun for leaving a hot, soothing nest behind. I perch my drink on the armrest. Condensation beads on the glass reflecting the settling sun in a citrine haze. The warmth of the chair quickly suffuses my silk bathrobe. My muscles drink it in and I can feel every inch of my body. An involuntary sigh bordering on a moan drifts from my throat. I just wish I could purr!

As I rest my head on my arm the breeze off the ocean turns frisky and tosses a corner of my robe up. "That's enough out of you," I admonish with a smile. I drag my arm across to shoo the corner back down. The breeze flicks it up again and a fine cool mist caresses up my leg leaving goose bumps behind for the air to tickle and tease.

"C'mon you," I chide the breeze, "I'm trying to get some sleep here." I roll onto my back and my robe slides off my right leg. That misty breeze tickles straight up the inside of my thighs and punctuates the suggestion by tugging at the front of my robe. I gasp, filling my lungs with salty air and then another breeze snatches that breath away. Looking down I instinctively move to fix my robe. Despite the unexpected growing heat within there is the definite suggestion of cold without. My bare right leg mocks the rest of my barely clothed body. The parts of me hidden beneath the sheer silk are the most obvious to me now.

I shoot a glance up and down the beach. A private beach is never really private. The thoughts going through my head in such a wide open space have my heart racing. The molten sunset winks past the horizon, daring me to explore a landscape more local than the beach. Someone could easily be looking but I can't convince myself to care.

The breeze begins to lose patience, teasing my robe up a bit further! My knees are like the joints of a marionette, lifting all but involuntarily. The shifting silk further charges my skin so that even the tiniest droplet in the mist is a painful prick of ecstasy. Laying back I convince myself that if my robe does happen to fall open then it was out of my control. I close my eyes and whisper to the ocean, “I am ready.”

The surf lapses from playful to insistent. That breeze of icy desire slides up the beach and washes over me. Wave after wave of alternating gusts and gentle caresses make me gasp again and again. The mist is like ice compared to the heat building in me, a new burn surging through my muscles. The fire focuses my awareness with growing intensity. I grab the arms of the chair to brace myself better, knocking the glass on the armrest. The sweet, sticky liquid gushes over my arm and into the sand nearly taking my capacity for judgment with it. I dig my nails deeper into the wood of the armrests to distract them from joining in. Forbidding myself this way only makes it worse, or should I say better!

The waves crashing against my imagination seem to go on for an eternity, yet not long enough! Keeping the storm within becomes harder with each surge of the surf. My body spasms, the resulting slip suddenly exposing everything to the elements including my inhibitions. My hands will be forbidden no longer and I seize the armrest anew to position myself better to join in with the motion of the ocean.

My eyes fly open to the shock up my right arm. I focus my eyes on my shaking right hand. There is blood! I start sucking on the throbbing wound, at the same time gasping trying to catch my breath. Looking over my hand I can now see the rose sitting on the armrest. I can’t seem to look everywhere fast enough but all I find is a dusky beach with waves crashing against the sand and, having spent their energy, retreating to the ocean.

Then I notice the footsteps by my chair! I am suddenly freezing and my teeth start chattering. A few steps away I can just make out a “D” in the sand. I’m too stunned to move. The surf pounds against the chair, drenching me in icy cold but my body is suddenly on fire again as I realize Darren is home early and the evening has only just begun.

Their lips touched and Tonya felt her body explode. The only sound she could hear was her heart beating faster. She could feel the rush of warmth take over her body. What was happening to here? Could this be real? Is it really possible to have fireworks go off in your head when you kiss someone? To Tonya the thought seemed ridiculous and just like a trashy romance novel. Tonya truly felt as if someone has ignited a fire inside her belly and that it was spreading everywhere. Her legs had turned to mush and she had no idea what was holding her up.

Her boyfriend, Kevin, felt Tonya pull away, but he was lost in his own confusion. His lips felt burned where they had kissed. He could hear a ringing in his ears and a rushing sound. They broke away from each other, both staring at each other. Tonya watched Kevin closely; did he feel the fire like she did? Did he feel the fire from within?

Gently Kevin reached out and held Tonya’s face in his hands. He looked deep in her eyes. Did she feel like she was drowning in an ocean? Did she feel the wild rushing of blood? They looked into each other’s eyes closely. Both of them were not sure what to do; neither had ever felt this way before. Never have they felt anything this intense or something that felt out of this world. Neither could speak.

Slowly they both moved towards each other again, drawn by the curiosity of the next kiss. Would it happen again? Tonya could feel her skin start to tingle, her heart start to pound, a buzzing in her ears. Kevin moved slowly just to savor looking into her eyes, watching them brighten and widen with the thoughts of their next kiss on her mind. As his lips touched hers, the rushing sound of blood filled his ears, his lips just a breath away from hers.

“Tonya, is that you?” came a call from in the house. Both jumped away from each other. The world came crashing back to them. They were sitting on the porch of Tonya’s parent’s house. Obviously they knew that Tonya was home from their date. Tonya looked to the door and blushed. How could she have forgotten where she was?

“Yes, I’ll be in, in a minute.” Tonya called back. She turned back to Kevin and wished she could melt back into their world. He smiled big and laughed.

“I will see you tomorrow.” He said softly. He reached out and ran his hand through her hair. He didn’t want the moment to end but he did not want to face the wrath of her parents. Tonya smiled and nodded. Words were lost to her when he touched her, even if it was just her hair. Kevin bent down and gave her a kiss before jumping from the porch to his car.

Tonya watched him drive away, touching her lips softly. The tingle was still there. A small shiver raced down her back. Hugging herself, Tonya smiled and turned into the house. Never before had anything felt so real and so powerful. Walking into the house, she passed her mother sitting on the couch watching TV while doing one of her knitting projects. Tonya was so far off into her own world, she did not stop to talk to her mother, who watched her passed by like a hawk watching its prey from the sky.

Walking into the bathroom and shutting the door, Tonya leaned against it holding it closed as she slid to the floor. Her legs could not hold her up any longer. Her body was alive and burning from the kiss. Standing up Tonya walked to the mirror and gazed at her self. She still looked like the 19 year old girl she was before she left for her date earlier that evening. Her eyes showed something new, something precious, a bright sparkle and almost like a tiny laugh. She looked the same and yet she felt different. Like a new door had opened for her, a whole new world of great new things. Smiling, she took the wash cloth and start taking off her light makeup, half afraid that the sparkle was because of the makeup and yet knowing that it would still be there when the makeup was gone.

Talia turned to walk through the open door and ran straight into a wall. A wall that shouldn’t have been there. And what a wall it was. A hard, well-developed masculine chest met her gaze as she breathed in sharply, inhaling an enticing scent.

“Excuse me.” The smooth baritone sent tremors through her body. She looked up into the most gorgeous blue eyes she had ever seen.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“No, it is I who should apologize. I walked right into you.”

Flustered, Talia shook her head with a smile. “That’s alright.” She tried to step back from his captivating presence, but realized he held her arms to steady her. The heat radiating from his palms warmed her to her core and left her yearning for more.

“My name is Anthony.” He stepped back and released her to hold a hand out.

“Talia.” Goosebumps raced up her arms as he caressed more than shook her hand. She found herself lost in the sensuality of that one touch.

“Please allow me to take you to lunch to make up for my rudeness?”

Talia laughed. “It was an accident.”

“Tt would make me feel much better.” The smoldering look he gave her made her melted with desire.

“Anthony.” The spell he weaved around her was broken by the sound of the shopkeeper’s voice. “How good to see you again.”

Anthony’s eyes never left her face as he whispered softly. “See, Giovanni knows me. I promise I’m safe.”

“Talia, is this man bothering you?” Giovanni came up behind her and placed an arm on her shoulders.

Anthony’s eyes lightened as he looked at the seventy year old shopkeeper. “Giovanni, are you trying to tell me something?”

“You be nice to this girl, Anthony. You do anything and you have me to answer to.”

“I only want to take her out to lunch. Convince her to say yes.”

Talia looked up at Giovanni, whose eyes twinkled with amusement. “So, you think I should go with him?”

Giovanni nodded. “Go, go. You just tell me if he tries anything. He will answer to me.”

Talia smiled and nodded at the old family friend, her bubbling laughter just barely contained.

Anthony tucked her hand under his arm and escorted her to a nearby restaurant. They were quickly seated at a quiet table to the back. No one was around to hear their conversation.

“So, tell me, about yourself, Talia.” He held her hand as they talked, each stroke of his thumb on her palm like a spark soaring a flame to greater heights. His eyes raked across her face, pulling something in her soul as she sat there, drowning in his presence.

“I live here in the neighborhood, and have my entire life. I’m a teacher at the local elementary school.” Her voice sounded nervous even to herself.

Anthony lifted her hand to kiss it gently with his firm, soft lips. He caressed it as he told her how beautiful she was. “I saw you today, and I knew in my heart I could not let you go. When we met, the rest of the world faded and my being became centered on you.”

Sensations ran through Talia’s body, enflaming and drowning her in turn. She had never felt such a strong desire to be with someone before. Everywhere he touched he left a craving for more.

“How can you say that?”

“It is what I feel, deep inside. I want to take you away and make sweet love to you all day, all night, for the rest of our lives. I want to be the man who makes your dreams come true and kisses all your hurts and disappointments away. I know no other woman will do for me, for you are my other half. You are the one I was created for.”

Talia melted. His words brought forth a need so strong in her that she couldn’t help the tear that escaped from the corner of her eye.

“Why do you cry?” He reached for her face, cupping her cheek in his hand after wiping the tear away. “I only say what’s in my heart.”

“How did I ever get so lucky as to find you?”

“The gods were smiling upon us.”

She gave him a watery smile. “Then they have been smiling for years, because I love you today as much as the day we met. I have never regretted marrying you, and days like today remind me why I fell in love with you in the first place.”

Anthony gave a mock frown, but moved closer. “Hey, you weren’t supposed to drop character ‘til I had my chance to ravish you.”

Talia shook her head. “I know, but I just couldn’t do it any more. You blow me away.”

At Anthony’s perplexed look, Talia grasped the hand still on her cheek. “You’re incredible. You make my heart cry out with joy whenever you are near me. My days become brighter when you’re around. There are times when I don’t know if I can go on any more, and the thought of you there, behind me, supporting me, always reminds me that I can do it. That if you believe in me, anything is possible.

“I thank the gods every night for bringing you into my life. I don’t know who I would be or what I would be doing if I hadn’t met you, but I know my life is the best it can be because of you. Even if you were to leave me tomorrow, I would still be enriched having had you in my life.”

His kiss told her all she needed to hear.