Thursday, March 15

HNT Seamus


Sharing one umbrella
We have to hold each other
Round the waist to keep together.
You ask me why I'm smiling –
It's because I'm thinking
I want it to rain forever.

~Vicki Feaver , Love Poem

The skies were dark and the rain was pouring as i sat and waited for his arrival. He brought the rain with him I'm sure. A little gift to me who loves weather as stormy as my own tempestuous spirit. It lent an atmosphere of intimacy to the already cozy surroundings of the coffee shop.

He entered, shaking the rain off. A beautiful man with a beautiful smile that immediately melted my heart and caused a slow burn to start that would not be satisfied.

We sat and talked. A little about blogging and the drama that evolves in the small confines of this virtual world, but not so much about that. We talked about our families and the situations we have both recently found ourselves in. We talked about us.

I listened to him, well I tried to listen to him. I found myself watching his lips as he spoke. Mesmerized. At one point I found myself wondering about the bathroom there. A fantasy that played out in my mind as he spoke. I imagined standing up, taking his hand, leading him into the ladies room, no stalls, just a single room - with a lock on the door. I thought of how easy that would be. To just wander into that room and have my way with him. But that was just my imagination, or perhaps a mental plan for his next visit? Spontaneity is a wonderful thing, but the coffee shop was starting to fill up as more people decided to take shelter from the storm that was brewing outside. I had no trouble imagining us going into that bathroom, but then I imagined us walking out, a long line of drenched women standing in line waiting for their turn. No, not this visit. Maybe next time.

We finally went outside, standing under cover, so that we could be alone.

We stood there, our arms wrapped around one another. Our lips met, and we lingered there, suspended. And again. The rain beating down around us, my knees feeling weak, I could feel that burn again. Liquid heat releasing itself on my thighs. I wanted more, but not for this visit. This visit was just the beginning of the dance.

I went home, his lips had burned their impression onto mine so that even as I picked up the phone to call him later that night I could still feel them. Still feel him. That part of himself that had connected to me. More than just flesh on flesh. The brief, evanescent passing of souls so close to one another that they mingle momentarily, and both are left changed from the touching.

And still the rain came down...

Happy HNT.

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