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I heard a car door shut in my driveway. She was here. Had found me in the dark. Not that I was hiding. I was waiting. Hoping.
Not unlike how she met me outside her house, I met her outside mine. It is warm now. No jackets needed.
I take her hand. Take her for a walk around my world.
Ignore the noise from the oddly placed sports bar across the street. I’ve never been inside.
I like to say my kids learned their often-colorful language from the drunks there. That may be partly true, but more likely, they learned most of it from me. I often kid that fuck is my favorite word. It’s not really a joke.
My youngest used to call it ‘the drunk store.’ I still do.
We keep walking. She once told me she missed tall trees. I showed her tall trees. The stars above them. The winds that blow through them. I stop and listen. To the wind. To her breathing. To the changes in the air.
I tried to explain the way my world looks by day. The deep greens in late Spring and Summer. The oranges and yellows and reds of Autumn. The brown and white of Winter. The mountains all around me. Full of life. Full of death. The way mud smells. The lightening over the lake when it’s hot.
We walk along the water. I show her the secret stairs. They didn’t used to be secret. When I was a kid, everyone knew they were there. Now, nature was reclaiming them. The bottom five steps barely perceptible until you were right in front of them.
To the left, when I was a girl. A lifetime or three ago, I used to ride my bike and jump it in the water. The man-made retaining wall at this end of the lake caused the front tires of bikes to lift when they impacted it. For a split second you felt like Elliot and ET flying through the night sky. The cold water violently waking you up from that moment. A moment of flight so perfect, you willingly ran your bike to the small hill to crash into the water again. And again. And again. Freedom.
At the top of those stairs, bare right. There. To your left. That’s where my favorite hiking trails are. Across the lake. Some in another state. I lose myself in those woods as often as possible. It’s the only place that drowns out the voices that aren’t very nice to me.
Walk forward. Carefully. Sit. These are the rocks I dangle my legs over, the water beneath casino şirketleri waiting with bated breath for me to tumble into its depths.
Down another set of now-secret stairs. There’s the boat dock. Kayaks go in the water there. Jet skis, pontoon boats and more.
Over here. That’s the bench I sit on when I slip my imagination into other worlds. Creating ones that are kinder, gentler, more loving than the one I know. Where I create different versions of myself. Put little pieces of me in every character. Those characters, with the little pieces of me in them, they are my horcruxes. Parts of me that will live on. Somehow. Someway.
Some get the good parts of me. The better parts. Some get the bad parts. The parts I don’t like. My joy comes from constructing worlds for those parts to thrive. Heal. Feel. Become more. Be more.
There’s the spot I had the best summer of my adult life. I no longer see those moms and kids who shared that with us. Nothing is built to last is it?
Ignore the construction. Once small lake cottages are being replaced with mammoth lake houses that block my view when I walk along this access road. I hate them.
Next we go over the bridge again. The one I must cross every time I experience this world. Once on the way there. Once on the way back. The bridge is ‘temporary’. It’s been there for a decade. Living just above the original bridge. That lower bridge, deemed incapable of holding the weight of two way traffic, now holds another bridge and one way traffic. Sometimes, I think too hard on how that works. How that relates to my own heart. My own life.
I walk her over to the dam. The way the water sounds as it rushes over it. Rushes to escape. Or is it rushing to get to the next part of its existence? Careful. It’s a long way down. That dam has already claimed two lives since I’ve lived here. Don’t get too close.
Words that flow so easily onto paper were held back by the dam in my brain that was the reality of having her here. I wasn’t doing my world justice. Or maybe it only held beauty and meaning for me.
The crisp air. The smell of the water not far away. The noise from the bar and cars on the road filled the space between us.
We were in front of my house again. I let go of her hand. Her rental car was to her right, my front door straight ahead. Door A or Door B. Her decision. I walked towards the front door. Hoping she would follow.
My house was empty. By design. Would be for the next 36 hours. All who lived here besides me sent away. ‘Go. Have fun. Here’s some money. Don’t come back too soon.’ Location services on, keeping them in check. Keeping me aware.
My bed wouldn’t casino firmaları be empty though, if things went as planned. She was here, had left Middle America. The odds appeared to be heavily in my favor.
Inside, up in my kitchen, is a new French press. It was how she liked her coffee made. I didn’t much care how coffee was made. If she was still here in the morning, I would attempt to not fuck up a cup of coffee for her. If I did fuck it up, I would apologize. With my tongue. And the rest of me. More than once.
I opened the front door; she was only a step behind me. Her choice.. Door B. I smiled to myself.
We are both inside. I turn to lock the door. She smiles. At me. That smile. The one that turns me into putty. And makes me want to suck on her lips. And her breasts. And her. All of her.
I take her hand. Take her downstairs. A cat scampers past. The calico one.
Into my room. I share it with no one. It’s my space.
Down here, she smiles again. The right side lifts up. If I was putty before what was I now? More than putty. But what’s more than putty?
“Maybe you should just lay down on this bed. On your back. I have something I want to do.” My room. My bed. Her voice that dripped of honey telling me what to do. More than putty.
“Here.. on the edge of the bed.. or further up? Just tell me exactly where you want me…” My eyes haven’t left hers.
She doesn’t speak. I’m up further. My shoulders on the pillow, the rest of me flat. She’s straddling my hips. Her mouth on me. Kisses start on my chin. My body is already reacting.
Anticipation. Lust. Desire. Heat.
My eyes leave hers. I’m exposed. Shy? I need a moment to pull my emotions back in. To feel less.. awkward. Less me.
She pauses, but only momentarily. Her spine straightens and she dusts her thumbs over my nipples between kneading and caressing. I can feel the gentle rocking of her hips. Can feel my heart pounding in my chest. The fire of desire in my belly.
My eyes are back locked onto hers. Awkwardness be damned.
She takes her time moving…this is new, and the emotions should be savored.
She’s still, but not until after kisses and caressing showers of touch that avoid the tickle zones. I had warned her I was ticklish. Beyond the normal definition of the word. This had been used against me more times than I could count in my life.
I watch as she lies on her stomach between my thighs. Here, she almost imperceptibly licks…so softly we are barely touching.
My head is fuzzy. Swirling. Foggy. My toes are already curling with the sensations threatening to overtake me. Change me. Own me.
She’s gentle. Slow. güvenilir casino Soft. Up then down. Then across. She fills her mouth with my clitoris. My back arches. Hips move slowly.
Her lips pull. Pull like how I pull on her lower lip. In that moment, I want her lip.
“Don’t stop.”
She doesn’t. Her hand is kneading my thigh. Her own body moving as her mouth moves. I want to grab the hips that keep entering my view then leaving. Not now though. Now. Just don’t stop.
Lick. Suck. The pressure and speed increase with each pass.
My hips are moving to match her speed.
“Fuck.” I’m so articulate in that moment. The ability to form pretty phrases has completely left me.
Her movements faster. Her fingers probing. My breathing faster. Body moving. Trying to stay in time with her. Her eyes find mine. Often. I’m lost in them. In her. In the movements and the sensations.
I can’t hold her eyes with mine any longer. I can’t keep them open. Faster. More. I feel a rare smile spread across my face.
Deep primal moans fill my bedroom. My body is moving in ways it hasn’t in this room in years. If ever.
I’m building. Closing in on climax.
Her hand flattens and replaces her tongue at my pussy…sliding up and down lightly but quickly. Two fingers from her other hand curl inside, kneading outward and upward.
Every part of me is about to explode. In the best way.
I can’t take my eyes off her, but I can’t keep them open. I’ve lost all control. Of my mind. My body. Everything.
I manage to open my eyes, connect with hers and in that instant I crash. Fall. Explode.
I’m certain there’s two halves of me splayed out on that bed now. Pieces of me in every corner.
I push her hands away but don’t really. Don’t go, but slow down. Stop. I’m trying to catch my breath.
“Come up here I need to kiss you.”
I needed that lip. Now.
Her hands stop but don’t leave. She lets me calm. Collect myself. I’m certain I missed some pieces.
She crawls her way up to the pillows and lays her left leg across my hips. “Hi!” She giggles before kissing me. “Having fun?”
I mumble something that sounds like yes. My eyes are heavy. Is this what utter bliss feels like? Leave your leg right there. I like that. A lot.
“Come closer.” Her face is so close I can feel her breath. “Tell me a dumb joke.” I force my eyes open so I can see that smile. Then they close again.
“Did we do all that just so you could hear a dumb joke?”
I loved her dumb jokes. “Don’t leave me.”
I feel a gentle kiss. Then another. She tells me a dumb joke. I open my eyes so I can see the smile. That one. Yep.
Her head settles into the pillow and she kisses my chin when I stop laughing.
“I won’t leave til you need me to.”
And she didn’t. Until she had to.
Dreams come true in New England too.
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