Perfect Evening

It had been a lovely evening. A white candle lit dinner. Delicately planned. Tenderly prepared. Carefully executed. It was about perfection, the significance of every detail, everything had to be just right. The importance of the food, of its taste, of its presentation, of its consumption, it had to be unique and intense. The food could only be what it was by nature; taste only for what it was. The plate on which it was served was only the white canvas, extraordinarily plain. Wine. A single flute each. It was only to flatter and enhance that pureness. Even the music had to be supplementary. Not necessarily the words but the tone, the style, the rhythm, that’s what mattered. It was she that had changed that, the way he heard the music. She was pure emotion.

That’s why everything had to represent that genuine emotion, the essence of the sensations existing from the beginning—the intrigue, the succor, and the yearning. It was the epitome and unadulterated forms of those feelings. They just transpired with the first words ever uttered and continued with everything said since. Consequently, everything about the evening from the food to the drink to the pallid candles to the minimal arrangement to the subtle accompanying music had to be reflective.

That is how they sat. An obvious, unadorned setting reticent of the feelings and words they always shared. Yes. Shared. It was always easy to find the discussion. The path was always easy to follow even though it curved and flowed and turned sharply about as thoughts and ideals passed into spoken word. The words. Always meaningful. Always affecting. Always provoking. Yet they weren’t just words. They were sentiments and perspectives and revelations and metaphors and imaginings. And all because of that intrigue, that succor, and most of all that yearning. Surely each of them felt the centripetal pull.

…I have to show the exactness of my being… I must express what makes up my soul… You must know whom and what I am…backwards and forwards… inside and out…

It was an evening of firsts. The first time they were able to sit quietly together. The first time they truly shared a meal together. It was the first time seeing each other by the gentle glow of a flickering candle. It was the first time that no fear of interruption would intrude. It was the first time that face-to-face conversation didn’t have to be choreographed against trespassing ears. It was also the first time they could sit in silence, studying each other and enjoying the simple presence of the other, no one there to call them on the oddness of their mute staring. It was the first time they were truly alone. And it was perfect, just as planned.

As much as she enjoyed being studied as she sipped at her glass or as she herself searched his face, she felt the desire to speak above the soft music to beg of closeness even the marrow of her bones was crying for.

“You haven’t touched your dessert,” she noted trying not to make her voice so shocking to the solitude that surrounded them.

“And…” he smiled.

“I just thought if you were finished, that maybe we could dance,” she suggested with great charm.

“Here?” he questioned, half laughing.

“Yes, here. Why not?” her seriousness increased.

“It would feel awkward. Would it not? I always think that when I see it in movies—two people, soft music, all alone. I can’t imagine it feeling very natural or romantic hearing the shuffle of our own feet across the floor.”

“Then turn the music up,” she smiled. “Very loud. Loud enough that you couldn’t even hear me talking in this tone right up next to you.”

He sat thoughtfully for a long moment. Too long. Her impatience overcame her. She rose and moved to the stereo. The changer was in the process of selecting another song. It was the perfect selection. She adjusted the volume until it filled her ears and blocked out all other sound including her own breathing. Thusly, she hadn’t heard him rise to his feet.

She crossed over to where he was now standing, at the center of the room. She looked up at him—so tall; so fair; so fine. His lips, on the verge of words, she slipped her finger to them in order to silence him—so soft. She slowly traced down his chin, his neck, his chest. She slunk around his rigid stance with her tracing finger torturing every nerve it grazed even through his clothing. Around and behind him, brushing his back ever so genteelly as more of her hand joined that torturous finger now gliding up over his shoulder as she reemerged completing her circle. The hand stopped on his chest as she guided her other previously unoffending hand and arm under his. The arm and hand grazed harshly against his waist then up his back and finally she hooked the new wicked hand just over his shoulder.

His chest was heaving for breath. Nervous. She was making him so very nervous. Or mad. Overwhelmingly mad. His eyes were closed, either in concentration of his composure or on the tracing wicked hands. It was the first time that they had touched each other without suspecting eyes of judgmental watchers, a chance to really feel one another. It didn’t matter now what the touching meant to anyone else or how the pair appeared. All the feeling behind the sensation could be bared. As she tucked herself to him, his arms engulfed her at once. Their entangled form swayed gently to the almost deafening descant that filled the space and assuredly all the ones connected to it. It was all done in a continuous motion. Just like the dancing body of a ballerina, always movement, always changing, always shifting even though it is sometimes unperceivable.

Whether the music was fast or slow, they kept their delicious rhythm. He sealed her to himself as if fearing the thought of letting go. Her hand fondled the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands, such warmth, such strength, caressed every line and curve formed in her back with their movement. Her face rested against his shoulder and chest. His head dipped down with his cheek pressed to her forehead. Her breath meandered its way through the weave of his shirt tormenting his skin. His cravings finally won out against his long controlled restraint, it meant the initiation, the moment of no turning back.

One hand searched out the small chin to turn that mouth, those surely sweet pink lips, up to his. His suggestion met no resistance. She looked up to him; she searched every inch of his face. He watched her eyes roving about. Her gaze distracted him. Then his eyes wandered back down to her mouth where his thoughts were only seconds before—so close; so supple; so soft. He leaned in all the more closely, brushing her small nose just to the side of his. Yet he hesitated, one brief instant, an immeasurable distance between his mouth and hers. He looked once more right into her eyes. Lost. They were both going to get lost. But he broke the hesitation, his mouth diving to her mouth. Not cruel. Not coarse. Just sensual anguished release.

And that was all it took. Body clasping to body, mouth engulfing mouth, a new dance had begun and the control fell into his very capable hands.

His lips slowly persuaded her to the wall. His body urged her against it. Every unyielding, firm curve of his form entreated hers. His mind reeled with possibilities that existed, with liberties he imaged taking, and with assurance in her willingness to allow it all.

She wanted to get as close to him as possible. She wanted to seep into him. To be completely wrapped in this passion, his passion, for her. It was different from every other symbolization of any previous admirer. The tenderness of his hands, the sweetness of his kisses, the longing oozing from his firm form pressing against her, he cared for her in a way no other ever had, ever would, or ever could. It wasn’t about how she looked. It wasn’t about how she moved. It wasn’t about how she made him look to others. He was there for her soul, for her mind, for her heart. And he was there at this very moment to share his essence with hers. It wasn’t about what her body, her hands, or her mouth could do for his. It was about being with that persona, to share absolute happiness with her, the person he felt was his kindred spirit, his ultimate soul match.

Yes, a complimentary soul. She felt all those same things about him. She had never needed, longed, or craved for simply the presence of anyone else like she did for him. Oh, to be one with him. How could it make this relationship any superior than it already was to her? What would it do to her? She wasn’t sure she could handle anything more. Yet, she was willing to suffer insanity in learning.

But this dreamy world suddenly stopped. She sighed. His lips had left hers, had left her completely. But his breath was hot and slow over her mouth. His hands held her face captive. He brushed his forehead ever so slightly against hers. The room was hushed. The changer was in the process of selecting something new. But the one sound resonating in her ears, the sound of his breathing—a luscious sweetness—that was all she wanted to hear now. Her mind reveled in the possible intonations, modulations, timbres and tones that he was capable of vocalizing. She wanted to be the source causing him to produce them. She sighed again.

The music started again. A soft and sorrowful melody filled her ears obliterating his beautiful sound.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Turn off the music.”

“I can’t let you go, you might vanish like a ghost, like a dream,” he whispered. “I’m sick of dreaming.”

“I’m very real,” she cooed at his innocent and hopeless romantic nature. “Turn off the music, I promise not just dreams tonight.”

He slowly released her. Coolness flowed over her body as his closeness, his heat moved away the few feet over to the stereo. It only lasted a few seconds. He returned, swiftly scooping her into his arms.

It was a good thing he knew his place in the dark. She was teasing his mouth with her tongue again and he couldn’t keep his eyes open to watch their progress to his bed.

Oh the thought of her smell inundating his bedding!

…how long will it smell like her after she’s gone…how will I be able to even let her go anywhere after having her…

But right now, she was there.

He stood her gently on the floor. His hands were shaking a little with anticipation of the bare skin underneath the wrap dress he was now tugging at. One pull at the right tie and the dress fell open revealing thigh high stockings, barely-there panties, matching bra and milky white skin.

His shirt, buttons undone and over his head in an expert movement … her hands, smooth and soft, rubbing deftly down his chest to his stomach to the button of his trousers. The same skill helped dispose of not only his trousers but also his boxers.

His hands pushed the dress off her shoulders and down her arms and it dropped to the floor. Then he proceeded to study the feel of her torso, making his own journey downward. The hook on her bra gave into his fingers readily. His heart raced as her breasts were released from the confining grip. He then discovered just how little material there was to her panties … no back.

He knelt kissing her neck, breasts, and then stomach as he got on his knees before her. His fingers urged the stockings off making sure he brushed every inch of revealed leg as he went. Remaining knelt, he looked up to her enamored face. She was drinking in and deriving the greatest pleasure out of his hands.

One more piece of clothing. His fingers pushed under the tiny bands of the thong that rested low on her hips. An easy snatch and they were gone. Never in all of his fantasies had he desired her as much as he did right then.

The small mound of dark brown curls right before his eyes was too much to resist. He leaned in the few inches it took for his mouth to find the sensitive deep pink folds hidden there. His ears were filled with the wonderful sound of her groaning. He opened his mouth on her and shoved his tongue even deeper between her legs. He felt her tremble as she gasped his name.

He stood and laid her back on the bed. He laid down on her kissing her mouth again. The sensation of her completely nude body next to his… her warm smooth hands were roaming everywhere … bloody hell he wanted to take his time with her but she had him so thoroughly aroused it was becoming painful to hold off cuming right then and there. It was going to be difficult but he was going to make sure he did everything he had dreamed of doing to her.

But something he had never thought or planned broke his concentration his mouth was giving to her breasts.

“Fuck me please!” she whispered exasperatedly. “Now please!” she added to her plea.

Her hand had searched out his erection and was urging him towards her. He couldn’t possibly resist her plea, not that voice, not that whispered tone.

He moved up, letting her direct him into position. A surge of ecstasy shot through him as she placed the head of his cock to her opening. She was hot and moist, more than ready to receive him. He had noted that even when he had licked her—he had gotten a good taste of her then. He pushed in and up, her hand guiding him and her other hand pushing-pulling him by the butt. He held his body off her and looked down to watch her taking all of him in. That surge of ecstasy swelled and magnified. Every inch of his body quivered in pure delight. What glorious sounds she made! He groaned in response.

…with you…completely with you…never felt anything before in my life until now…

They began a slow rhythm with his thrusting and driving and the gentle rock she made with her hips.

“Yes…deeper, unn, yes…like that…oh yes, god yes…please don’t stop,” her delicious words commanded and instructed him.

“Oh baby…” he moaned after only a couple of minutes. “I’m so going to cum any second…please help me last for you…I want to, unn…cum with you.”

“Roll us over,” she managed in a gasp. “On your back baby!”

In one movement, he was looking up at her. She shifted her movements and the sensations her vagina had been supplying his cock lessened. It saddened him for a moment, but only just. The change in angle of her hips had changed the places he rubbed inside of her. She almost cried out from the pleasure he was supplying now. This thrilled him immensely.

The position wasn’t as easy for him to drive into her but she had control and she knew what felt good to her so he was more than happy to be an object. He reached up and cupped her breasts. Massaging her and teasing her as well as holding her up, he loved this. She moaned at his grip.

After a few minutes, he knew she was getting close. His desire to take her over the top with his motions had him switch their positions again. He was dominate and he knew she wanted him to be.

He returned them to the initial position and held himself over her. He began pushing into her with a long, deep, and coarse driving. She was so warm. He was so hot. He watched her as she was watched his cock moving in and out of her. She was biting her lip and whimpering and whining in delight. Soon it was too much for her though. Her back arched and she moaned and exclaimed out loud.

“…oh … god … yes … baby … yes!”

Her hands raked down his chest and around onto his back.

He couldn’t help but groan aloud and exclaim his pleasure.

“…unn…baby…so good…unn…so fucking good…”

He drove harder and deeper holding off his erection as best he could. She was literally calling out now. She was right there on the edge with him. He made his stroking as lavishing and devastating as he moaned in chorus with her.

Then he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He called out in ecstasy at a sensation his hand had never produced in his fantasizing of her. And what she did intensified it even more. She peeked as he came into her. She gasped in pure pleasure and with her orgasm all her muscles tightened around him. The sensation was indescribable.

He collapsed gently to her, pleasantly exhausted. His head lay on her chest. He heard her racing heart slowly calming. Her hands and fingers tracing delicate lines across his back and arms. He shifted his weight off her and lay to her side. Without him there, she was instantly cold. She rolled over wrapping up around him. He cradled her to him tightly.

…I was right when I thought it…there is no way, no way I can let her go now…not now…