The Restaurant
My Precious Sweetness,
I cannot concentrate on my work today. My mind gently drifts, no is tugged to, as clearly as if I were watching a video of us performing the restaurant scenario. I hope you don't mind that I feel the need to share what I "see" with you here and now. I know my love that soon it will no longer be an enticing fantasy but a splendid memory and when that day is upon us, I shall then write about the spectacular details of the actual events as they occurred. But for now, these delicious images are what play in my mind...
"Are you hungry my love?" I ask as we approach the restaurant.
"Famished," you reply with that familiar wicked grin that tells me quite clearly that you are but in more ways than one.
I open the door for you and we enter the Chinese restaurant, our senses flooded by its red and yellow trim, the various scents of spices floating through the air mingling with sounds of voices talking, laughing, silverware as it clinks against plates. It is a busy night but couples and groups are easily lost in their own intimate spaces sharing mounds of food between them while they huddle in curved booths. The hostess begins to seat us not far from the door and quickly I search the parameters of the room.
"Excuse me but may we have that booth?" I motion toward a small booth in the far corner.
"Of course," she pleasantly agrees and we follow her to what will soon become "our favorite spot".
We slide onto the red leather booth; you settling first on the inside and I following you, sitting beside you on the outside. We lean in close to one another as we begin to review and discuss the menu.
The motion of your hand as it slowly places something into the pocket of my blazer, stirs me and I smile at you. You blush ever so slightly but the devilish grin that I have grown to know and love so very much betrays you. Meanwhile, our discussion about what to order hardly skips a beat.
"We'll begin with a scorpion bowl," I say to the waitress when she cheerfully returns. Just another reason to remain seated close to you. Two straws soon share the iceberg filled bowl complete with centered flaming volcano. I know that soon similar flames will erupt inside of us my dear.
Dinner arrives; multiple dishes of exotic sauces, flavors, colors and we eat while talking, laughing, whispering. Your cheeks have begun to assume a light pink color. A combination of the drink and the anticipation of what is about to occur no doubt. Yet I know that soon, they will own a much deeper, darker shade of red.
You play with the drink, swirling the ice cubes with your straw as you talk about something that happened to you at work yesterday. I hope you will forgive me my love, but my thoughts are not 100% with you at this moment.
As you continue to idly chat, my hand slowly reaches into my pocket; my thumb feeling for the small round button located on the remote control. I glance down at the thin wire that bridges the few inches that separate our hips.
With an imperceptible, slight movement of my thumb, I turn the button to low.
You stop talking and inhale sharply. Your eyes open wide. Your luscious lips separate in a silent gasp. Then you look at me and smile. As the tip of your tongues leaves the inside of your delicious mouth to slowly lick your lips, you swallow hard and allow a low, quiet, deep moan to escape.
"Be nice," you whisper. Your eyes plead.
"Oh yes. You should know by now that I am always nice," I say back to you; my eyes smiling more than my lips.
You begin to wiggle your hips slightly, moving them side to side. I know what you are doing and cannot let you enjoy this too much, too quickly... so I move the button back to "off"
You toss a pout my way and whisper, "I don't think I can take this."
"Oh yes," I return the whisper, "you can take it quite well I am sure. Now as you were saying...."
You can hardly speak for the smile on your face is so large, but you feebly attempt to continue with the story you had been relating. However, focusing on it is now very difficult for you and the monologue is punctuated with numerous pauses as your mind wanders.
"Are you preoccupied with something?" I curiously ask.
"Yes, I guess you might say that," your reply.
"Well then, let's see if we can help you concentrate," and with that I turn the button back to low. Your body trembles slightly and I move the speed to medium. You clench your fists and suddenly your smile disappears and you look at me with excruciating desire. The scenario has quickly moved beyond humorous to you.
"Let's go," you whisper, near frantic, "please?"
"We can't, we have to pay the bill."
My smile betrays the intense pleasure I'm receiving from the situation.
"Well then stop..."
You are interrupted by the waitress who pauses by our table.
"Can I get you anything else?" she politely asks.
"Oh no, it was all most wonderful," I speak for you as you sit and play with the drink, gently rocking side to side, ever so slightly as if dancing to your own private tune.
The waitress picks up the dishes and begins to go away.
"Oh by the way," I ask her, "the chicken dish was spectacular, do you know how it was prepared?"
I turn the button to high. You take a deep inhale, hold your breath and fall back, pressing against the booth. I look at you, nipples peeking from behind your loose silk shirt and your hips rise, just the slightest bit, off the cushion, your thighs are squeezed tightly together. Your hand slowly reaches under the table and pinches on my leg.
"Let's see," she stands in front of us thinking, "yes I believe I know what they put in that...." and proceeds to tell us in detail how to prepare the scrumptious dish.
"Thank you so much," I say as she starts to leave, "oh, and one more thing..."
You kick me hard under the table.
"We'll take the check."
I turn off the switch.
You are breathing harder now, faster.
"Wait until we get home," you mumble.
"Oh really?" I toss back, "No threats please. You know where my fingers are right now, you better behave."
Your eyes fly open and you stare at me, pupils widely dilated, huge black circles almost completely hide the colorful ring which encircles them and there is a moistness which covers your eyes now.
The glistening glimmer of lust. The look of hunger.
I know it well.
Before paying the check, I lean in, whispering so closely that my lips sensuously brush against your ear, "Dinner is not over my sweet one. You still need to have desert."
...And so my dear, when are you free for dinner?
Eagerly yours,
O.
The Vacation
My Precious Sweetness,
I sit alone on the deck of our cottage, anxiously waiting for the days to drift until you are here with me! Oh will you tell me how to hurry time? I do find, however, that playing out our meeting in my mind helps to stave off my impatience - if only briefly. Allow me to share with you what I mentally fondled this morning.
You're driving. You're alone. You've left the highway behind miles ago and now you swiftly travel along a road that curves gently through
big, thick trees; trees that throw zebra striped shadows onto
an otherwise sun bright road that curves as it leisurely
stretches before you. A summer's breeze gently flows
through open car windows, caressing your skin with its
warmth and refreshing smells. Your mind still races -
unable to yet let go of what you are driving from - bills,
deadlines, decisions, the worries and fears of everyday life.
You think about what you have brought with you. Two suitcases which are in the trunk. That was all, two suitcases. "Did you bring enough? And the place you are going to. What will the house be like? Will you be comfortable there? And the person you are to meet? How will this first meeting go?" More worries creep in but you keep burying them.
Now you see the huge gate and begin to pull up the long driveway that leads to the house.
"Wow, what a fantastic place," you think. It appears so warm, so inviting, so comfortable. You park in front of the house and get out of the car.
The door slowly opens and I am there to greet you. We say our hellos and exchange a tender, warm embrace and a momentary kiss on the lips. You begin to feel safe and relaxed.
"Let me get your bags for you," I offer along with an enchanting smile and reach into the trunk, pulling out one suitcase.
We go into the house and I show you around - here is the living room, a welcoming fire simmers in the fireplace and the smoky smell penetrates the air. Here is the kitchen, there, the downstairs bath. We climb the stairs and I show you the master bedroom and several guest rooms, leaving you in the one you will be staying in.
"Go ahead and relax after your journey. I'll be downstairs. Come down whenever you are ready." I smile at you, slowly closing the door behind me.
You walk to the huge sliding glass doors and look out over the blueness of the ocean. A sense of peace floods you and you begin to believe that you will enjoy your stay here. You sit on the bed. It is soothingly comfortable and you are so tired from your journey that you are tempted to lie back and fall asleep. "A shower," you think. A shower will refresh you.
You take off your clothes that you'd put on long ago to begin this trip, letting them fall to the floor and with them fall away a few more of the thoughts and worries that plagued you on the drive. Stepping into the shower, you turn the water on hot, very very hot, and let it pelt the back of your neck, your shoulders, lower back. Tension and stress swirl with the water down the drain. You sigh, then turn around. The water is blasting onto your face and you stand there enjoying every second, then you move the stream of water, slowly toward your neck, then lower to your chest - the tiny beads massaging your breasts; your nipples respond to the attention, lower... you lower the water, now it is tapping upon your stomach then lower still and you release a long slow moan as it continues to pulsate onto your groin and upper thighs. You end the direction the sensations are about to take you by slowly reaching down and shutting the water off. As you step out of the tub, you see a big, oversize, comfy terrycloth robe hanging on the door and you smile as you wrap it around yourself, knowing that I've thought of everything. You towel dry your hair and brush it out but tiny drips still gather and cling to the ends, occasionally dripping onto your neck. But this you don't mind; they remind you of freedom. You feel free now.
Barefoot and refreshed, you walk downstairs, the delightful smell floating from the kitchen drawing you in that direction. When you walk into the light, airy, room, you see me as I am placing a big bowl of shrimp and steamed clams onto a tray, along with cheese, crackers, a bowl of fruit mixed with whipped cream, and a couple of wine bottles. I smile at you. No words are exchanged. None are needed. I know you have begun to relax and that you shall even more as the evening progresses.
I hand the full tray to you to bring into the living room, and while your hands are full, cannot resist but to tenderly lean into you and lick off a lone water drop that journeys down your neck. You quiver and smile at me, then bring the tray toward the living room, placing it on the low table in front of the fireplace. We both sit on the floor, our backs leaning against the couch. The only sounds are an occasional crackle from the fireplace, the cry of a leisurely swooping seagull and the wine as it is poured from the bottle into two glasses. Gently, we touch the lips of the glasses together and after the delicate 'tink" I whisper "to vacation" and wink at you.
You smile again. You think about how you are smiling a lot here; more than you have in a very long time. I walk across the room and put on a quiet soft jazz CD and am well aware that your eyes follow my every move.
When I return to our spot on the floor I face you and take a grape from the bowl. Our gaze never breaks as I take the grape and play with it between my lips, slowly peeling tiny pieces of skin off of it. When it is completely naked, I hold it tenderly between my teeth and lean in toward you. Our lips meet, the grape is passed into your mouth, its soft wet flavor bursts onto your tongue, as you chew, then swallow it. I pull away from you preparing some cheese and crackers that I gently pass through your lips to place into your mouth. But you want more than the snack and try to suck my fingers inside as well. "Not yet my precious one, not yet," I say and smile.
Shrimp, clams and wine we enjoy along with entertaining conversation sprinkled with laughter and long gazes. Although a refreshing breeze blows through the open doors, the room feels unusually warm, and you begin to feel tired. So very, very tired.
I take your hand and pull you up onto the couch, softly holding you as you lay back. My hands caress your forehead and cheeks, fondling your hair as I kneel on the floor beside you.
"Rest my little one, rest for now," I repeat over and over, "rest, shhhh, rest". You do not resist me. Your eyes close and off you drift into a peaceful, safe, warm sleep. When I hear your breathing has become soft and slow, I lean down, kiss your eyelids then walk away from you, leaving you in a deep, peaceful dream world.
I then walk to your car, open the trunk and take out the second suitcase. It is big and heavy, but I carry it to the back of the house, my bare feet making deep footprints in the soft sand as I walk with it. When I reach the cliff overlooking the ocean waves that swell and crash far below, I pause for a moment enjoying the stunning beauty that lies before me. Lazy white seagulls drift by, triangular sailboats lean toward the distant horizon, a lighthouse stands firm, proud guarding her harbor. Slowly, I inhale, a long deep breath in, filling my lungs with the clean fresh air, feeling its healing power surge through me.
I reach down to your suitcase and flip open the clasp and it springs open. Suddenly all your worries, troubles, fears, anxieties jump out into the air - they swirl in the warm afternoon summer breeze, hanging as they momentarily battle each other, unsure where to go, or what to do, but once they sense they are free, they zoom off toward the sea, ecstatic to be let loose; happy to be released. They shall not return I know, but in one final act of defiance, I lift the suitcase high above my head and hurl it down into the sea that waits so patiently below. It too is gone forever, I know. I smile at the gift I have just given you. Now, now your time here with me is insured to be completely peaceful, restful and loving, for now you have nothing left but that; that and me.
I turn and walk back into the house, through the kitchen, leaving a thin trail of sand on the floor and enter the room where you lie upon the sofa. You, my angel, rest so peacefully.
I remove a giant peacock feather from a flower decoration on the table, secretly smiling at what its "eye" will soon behold, and very gently sit beside you on the couch. You stir slightly but my voice soothes you, keeping you in the soft place where you are. "Shh," I comfort you and with the feather, begin to stroke your face. The sensation is of butterfly wings touching you and your lips move ever so slightly, the beginning of a smile. I run the feather down the sides of your neck then toward the hollowed center, then untie your bathroom and open it. You lie before me, your breasts and stomach exposed and run the feather along the length and curve of your throat, chest, then softly, slowly down toward your right breast. Starting in a big circle I begin to "O" around and around, closing the circle each time. Your body begins to react, the right nipple starts to salute and stand at attention, reaching toward me for more, as a child holding her hands outstretched to be held.
I continue circling until ending at the very tip, then flickering with the feather, tease you. You involuntarily arch your back a little and I stop. I do not want to wake you, not yet. I do not want to take you from the peaceful place you are. I want to enter it. Now, I begin the circling process on your left breast, until your left nipple is smiling as happily as your right.
The feather continues to wander down the center of your stomach and I watch as your skin tightens and trembles. Your hand moves in your sleep and begins to rub your stomach, up and down, and around - you know even in sleep, you know where I am headed and you are trying to rush the process. I tenderly take your hand, kiss it and place it back by your side.
Now the feather is moving from one hip bone toward the other, and each time it swipes back and forth it dips a bit lower and lower until your hips start to rhythmically rise to meet its touch. If I'm not careful, soon you will demand more. But first I need to know how ready you are for me my love.
With both of my warm, soft hands, I slowly, softly press your thighs apart. You open easily for me, as if instinct guides you, your legs drift away from each other, and I catch the first glimpse of the beautiful part of you which I desire so. Selfish thoughts cross my mind but it is not my time to be pleased, not now, not yet, I must be patient. There are plenty of hours that stretch before us. This I know and it causes me to smile.
Now, I must check you to make sure you are ready for me. Carefully, ever so slowly, I slide one finger between your lips - you tremble and move toward me, telling me you want more. Yes my love, you are moist. You have begun but you are not quite ready yet. I demand more from you first. I drift the feather over your tender lips - up and down back and forth, circles, zig-zags, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Your hips move more now, following my caresses.
Moments pass until finally I decide it is now the time. I stand before you, my sleeping beauty, and take off my clothes, watching as you move and gyrate, doing a silent sleeping dance and wonder exactly where you are in your dreams. Perhaps when you awake, you will share them with me.
I reach into the fruit bowl and take one of the large orange slices and with it, I run up and down and in and out of your by now red and swollen lips. They make a delicious noise as they part and I take great pleasure in seeing that your honey has accumulated. Your moans have grown louder and you are beginning to leave sleep behind; you've not yet left it completely but will soon.
I kiss you tenderly; warm, wet sloppy kisses everywhere, all over your body my lips travel. Lazily, you peek one eye half open to look at me and smile.
"Shhhh" I whisper, pressing a finger against your lips. "No words," then, I lean down and kiss you. The kiss is the most incredible, tender, passionate kiss ever as our lips merge together and our hot tongues unite. Your hands rub up and down my back pulling me tightly against you.
I know you want darling, I know.
Leaning toward your right ear, I gently bite the tip of your lobe and whisper, "We have only just begun my love. Welcome to vacation."
I look forward to your arrival next week my sweet baby.
Patiently waiting,
O.
The Beach
My Precious Sweetness,
I hope this letter finds you well, no, better than well;
I hope it finds you calm and at peace for I know how
difficult this circumstance called life has been for you lately.
You, who gives so much of your wonderful self to all who
come into contact with you; you who have so very much to
share; you who gives so unselfishly and unconditionally. But I worry about you my precious one. Be sure that you save some of these wonderful gifts of yours for YOU, and of course, for me. Am I being selfish? I suppose I should be embarrassed so say such a thing, however that's just one of the beauties of you - I can speak what I think without concern of judgment. Yes, that is but one from an endless list of qualities which create the inestimable allure of your irresistible charisma.
I had the most pleasant day-dream this morning. We were back on the pink sands of Bermuda, alone on the isolated beach. Surely you remember the one? The near-hidden path we discovered which wound its way down the rocky cliff to the beach that was no bigger than the size of our bed back home, but there was plenty enough room for our blanket and knapsack and the thermos filled with those addicting "these will give you a
hang over" frozen pina-coladas. Ahhh, but it was worth it, wouldn't you say?
I'm convinced that those days were a gift from the universe to us.
The sensations. Remember the smell? How could air be so freshly crisp we wondered? How we reveled in the delight of watching the bright blue and yellow parrotfish dart just below the surface of the crystal water; nibbling on coral, dashing between the various shades of blue and green water which spread endlessly before us, reflecting the white heat
of the towering sun. Other than our tiny pink and yellow pastel cottage that sat, a quiet voyageur upon the cliff above, only nature witnessed our 'picnic'.
It was the day your back was bothering you more than usual. The horseback riding I suspect and you lay, face down on the blanket, to give your muscles a chance to rest. I remember coming out of the ocean, feeling both refreshed and stimulated by the near-magical water, with multiple, glistening tiny drops still clinging to me as if to say "take us with you" until they'd lose their strength under the demanding sun and let go, dripping, dropping away from me only to be lost in the silky sand which squeaked beneath my feet. As I approached you, you sighed and I could tell you were trembling upon the edge of peaceful sleep.
Taking a sip of the slushy pina-coladas, I knelt beside you.
The sun was doing its best to massage your back but I knew you needed more. I leaned down toward the curve which dips in the small of your back and slowly allowed two drops of the icy concoction to fall from my mouth onto your radiating skin; one drop into each of the two dimples that flank each side of your spine and sit just above where your two sloping and voluptuous curves begin. You jumped...before you smiled, as I unclasped the back of your bathing suit top.
"We can't have any lines now can we my dear?" I whispered in your ear then tenderly placed my lips upon the nape of your neck. Oh how I easily could have become lost in kissing you, but I resisted; it was your back that needed attention... for now.
I sat upon you, on top of your two lovely round pillows, the inside of my knees squeezing your hips, my feet tucked tightly against the outside of your thighs. For a moment, I again felt I was sitting upon a steed and must admit that the thought of you taking me for a ride did pleasantly pass through my mind. Once again I am embarrassed at my selfish and evil thoughts, but oh, evil can be such fun at times.
"Not now," I had to scold myself, refocusing on the task at hand.
The slippery coconut oil smelled so wonderfully sweet as I squirted it on your back, drawing the shape of a heart. Your body stirred beneath me as my hands eagerly began to palpate your skin: pressing down hard with my palms, applying the full weight of my body, now pulling the muscles apart, then squeezing them together, varying intensity of touch, stimulating the muscles, then relaxing them, running my thumbs down the length of your spine, giving each nebula in the center of your back its due attention, then my nails, scratching circles, patterns, writing love letters across your back.
But you would not relax. You groaned. You moaned. You sighed. Your hips began to dance beneath me. Your breathing increased. And finally you spoke.
"I want to turn over," you whispered, pleading. How silly you are, my sultry seductress, as if you needed to beg.
Oh dear! Look at the time! I fear I shall be late for work again. If daydreams of you continue to pleasantly haunt me, soon I shall have no job and endless hours to write lengthy letters to you my sweet. I'm off and will drop this in the mail to you. Be well until I can be with you to insure it.
Until then, anticipate my affection.
O.
