Finally, We Kissed

In Spain,

you leaned your face in, then we kissed.

At first it was soft. Lips touching softly, like a gentle handshake between two people who have just met. But after one shake of the hands, you didn’t pull back. You lingered on. And before I knew it, our lips started to dance around each other. Everything was so soft, my lips, they were thinking out loud. They were wondering whether they were being rolled around on a very soft futon. Everything was so comfortable they didn’t want to get out of that softness. And then I don’t remember who started the storm. There was a wave. It came fiercer, and then fiercer. And before I knew it, I was lost in the enraging wave. Whirling, head spinning, losing sense of time and place. All that was conscious were the lips. How they enjoyed talking to yours. How they liked greeting yours. Our lips hugged, kissed, and shook hands again and again and all things replayed. There were your lips and my lips. And that’s was all that existed in the world at that certain moment.

In Spain,

we were standing by the window–that pretty European window overlooking the city.

I was in your arms, softly whispering this to your ear:

“You said you’d like to say silly things to me that will make me smile in your previous email. What are they? Tell me. I am right here with you. And I want to hear them. Say them now.”

Hearing that would tempt you to kiss me. We then proceeded naturally toward the queen size bed. All white–the linen. White and looking clean. I cast my eyes on it and felt content. What a perfect bed sheet. Lying on it would feel like lying on soft fluffy cloud, next to heaven…

Too bad, our lovemaking took place only in my imagination.

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