Absence

Someone once said: Absence makes the heart grow fonder. It was true. Leta had been on the West Coast for two weeks visiting friends from college. I had stayed behind to finish writing the novel in my after-work hours. Leta and I have been apart before, but I cannot help but notice how quiet and lonely the townhouse feels without her. I didn't dwell upon those thoughts during the two weeks she was gone; I was busy with work and the novel, after all. But in those quiet moments just before bed and then again just as I woke to face the day, I realized that I was living without the soul I counted as part of mine.

It was on those last few nights, when I found myself snuggling into her side of the bed, when I found myself breathing deep upon her pillow to catch the scent of her, that I began to plan for her return.

I arranged for a car to meet her at the airport, while I made dinner at home. I had considered checking us into a hotel downtown, but she had just spent two weeks away. A homecoming seemed more apt. The car would surprise Leta, but I felt that surprise might also work in favor of my plans. I wrote her a note telling her not to be alarmed by the driver, but to simply enjoy the ride home where I would be waiting.

I watched the car pull up about forty-five minutes after her plane was scheduled to arrive. She stepped out, looking up at the darkened townhouse. I met her at the door with a kiss.

"How was the flight?" I asked.

"Tiring." Expected. Leta loved to travel, but the thousand details of it wore on her.

I saw that in her eyes, helped her off with her coat, and told her that dinner was ready. But when she walked into the dining room she saw that only one place was set. Hers.

"First you don't show up at the airport. Now I'm eating alone. Are you trying to tell me something, dear?"

"Yes," I said. I held her chair for her. She sat.

"That is?"

I bent over her and kissed her neck where it met her shoulder. "Welcome home."

"You have a strange way of showing it."

"Uh-huh," I said, stepping from the room. I went upstairs and revised chapter seven of the novel while she ate.

A little while later, I heard her stirring below. I stood at the top of the stairs.

"Hello," I called down.

"Hello," she said, glancing up at me as she unpacked her briefcase.

I curled a finger toward her.

"If I climb those stairs, I'm not coming back down."

"Good, because whatever is down there tonight can wait until tomorrow."

When she reached the top stair, I held out a hand to her and led her to the master bathroom. I had lit candles there before going to write. Now, as I led her in, I knelt to draw a hot bath. I poured three capfuls of her jasmine bubble bath into the steaming stream of water.

Turning to her, I began unbuttoning her blouse.

"I love this," she said, "but I'm really too tired to give--"

"Shhh." I held a finger to her lips. "This is for you. Don't worry about giving anything." I peeled the blouse off her shoulders. "I wanted to do something for you." I unfastened her bra. "To show how I missed you." I eased the bra off of her. "To show how much I appreciate you." I unbuttoned her slacks. She wiggled her hips and they slipped to the floor. I hooked my thumbs inside her panties and pulled them down her thighs. "And they were all out of flowers."

Naked, she smiled and said softly, sleepily, "Good for them."

I held her hand while she stepped into the tub. She sunk into the hot jasmine bubbles. I knelt beside her in the candlelight and reached for the huge, thick sea sponge. I dipped it into the water, feeling it swell heavy, then wrung it over her shoulders. The water ran down and around her breasts in glistening rivulets. Again and again I wrung the hot water over her, letting it wash over her tense, tired muscles. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the rim of the tub. I lathered the bar soap in my hand, then began to massage her shoulders with it.

"I missed talking with you at dinner," she said.

"You deserved time to yourself after the plane."

"It doesn't mean I missed talking with you any less."

"No, but you'll hear me prattle soon enough."

"Good, I haven't had a good prattling in over a week." She gasped as my soapy hands found her breasts.

"Too hot?"

"Just a pleasant surprise."

I took her nipple between my thumb and finger to make it even more so. I pinched it lightly and twisted. She groaned. I kneaded her breast, lifting, squeezing. She arced toward me. Leaning in, I kissed her. I caressed her breast while I kissed her, letting my fingers work the fullness all the way out to her nipple. She moaned into my mouth. I teased her tongue with mine. She giggled.

My hand slid over her belly, between her legs, cupping her smooth sex. Her thighs hugged round my hand.

"I've missed feeling you there," she said.

"Uh-huh," I said, kneading the sensitive flesh. My fingers traced her slit. I slipped a finger inside her, traced round her entrance. My thumb found her clit. She gasped as I pressed the firm bud. I slipped a hand behind her neck and rubbed the taut muscles while my fingers played with her pussy. I could feel the subtle difference between her natural lubrication and the bath water. She groaned as I probed her entrance with a finger.

My finger inside her, I leaned over her to kiss her again. I pressed the tip of my tongue inside her mouth. My fingers massaged her inner walls, felt for the spongy patch just under her pubic bone. I massaged her G-spot with two fingers, her clit with my thumb, and kissed her deeply at the same time.

I continued playing with and petting her in the bath until her breath came in short gasps and her thighs tightened round my arm. I could feel the closeness of her orgasm in the tension of her body, the way she clutched my arm and shoulders with her hand.

She cried out and I felt her pussy clutching at my fingers. I rubbed her clit in circles to intensify the sensation. "Come, baby."

She groaned and slid deeper in the tub, her legs splaying wide, hips pressing her pussy against my hand.

After a while, gently, easily, I took my hand from her pussy. I let it slide up her belly to her chest, over her heart, where I held it, feeling her warmth, her breathing beginning to ease.

I kissed her.

After a few minutes rest, I stood and held a hand out to her.

"I don't know if I can stand," she said.

I leaned over her and helped her up from the shoulders. She leaned into me, hugging me close. Her cheek resting on my shoulder. I wrapped a towel around her and patted her dry. I scooped her up and carried her to our bedroom.

Drowsily, she said, "I might have a few minutes left in me, if you want--"

"I want you to sleep," I said, laying her down on the bed and crawling in next to her. She burrowed in against me.

"I'm . . . sorry . . ." She drifted.

Later, I slept.

Later still, I woke in the darkness to the touch of Leta's hand. The fingers of one hand tickled through the hair of my lower belly. The other was gently stroking my hardening cock.

"Someone's awake," she said.

I tightened pubic muscles, waving my cock in her hand. "And me, too," I said with a chuckle.

"I missed you, too." She stroked my cock from base to tip. "I wanted to do something for you." She kissed the tip. "To show my appreciation." She licked the head. "And they were all out of flowers."

"How very . . . good for them."

She sucked my cock. My hips thrust up to meet her bobbing head. I felt her lips and tongue on the sensitive head. Her fingers worked at the shaft. Her hand cupped and kneaded my balls. I groaned in total pleasure, unwound and undid by my woman's touch. Each movement of her fingers, her hands, her lips, her tongue, drove me further from my conscious self. I was only eroticism and pleasure, lust and hunger. My cock was living, throbbing steel. And I wanted only one thing.

"I want to fuck you," I growled. No poetry. No sensitivity. It was carnal desire expressed in its most primal terms. Want. Craving.

I rose to my elbows, then pushed her onto her back. I loomed over her and she giggled like a schoolgirl. I bit at her lips with a hard kiss, my tongue forcing its way into her mouth, tangling with hers. I parted her legs with mine, knees driving hers apart. I reached between us and rubbed the head of my cock along her slit. She was drenched with herself, swollen and hot. I rubbed the head of my cock on her clit and she groaned into my open mouth.

"I want to fuck you," I said.

"Fuck me," she gasped.

I slid my cock inside her. We knotted together, my cock plunging into her, her hips grabbing up for me. She put her arms around my neck, pulling me deeper into her. I broke the hug, holding her arms out and above her shoulders for freer thrust. It had been weeks since I had been with her. My craving surprised me somewhat. Leta and I have always been passionate. But now as I was in her, I felt driven. It was as if she were the only lock to which my key of lust truly fit. I knew I would come soon - I could feel the tension mounting along my spine, in my balls as they slapped against her - and I knew coming in her would be more fulfilling than coming any other way.

I felt the fire slip inside me. I throbbed as it shot through, groaned as I felt myself coming in her. Pumping. More. More. I put me inside her where I knew she would absorb me, becoming a bit of her.

I groaned as the wave of release shook out every nerve in my body. I rolled onto my side and clutched her to me. I panted into her hair and felt her fingers toying in the thatch on my chest.

After a few minutes, I whispered in her ear: "Welcome home."

Kissing me, she said, ""It's good to be home."

END