My phone vibrated. I reached into my pocked, pulled out the phone, and looked down.
"Hi, Michael. This is Pat. I think I want to kiss you."
"Meet me outside in 2 min," I typed.
Two minutes later, she was sitting at a bistro table on the patio, just outside the side door. She looked up and smiled.
I kneeled in front of her chair. I leaned in. And we kissed as if we were on our honeymoon. I kissed her again.
Later we went to dinner at a Mexican restaurant. We sat in a booth. She pushed the menu away. She said, "I'm just gonna watch you eat."
"You are not going to eat?" I asked.
"I'll have something later."
My burrito arrived. It was huge.
"You have a healthy appetite," she said.
I looked at her and smiled. "You have no idea," I said.
After my dinner, we went to her apartment, where she ate yogurt and orange slices. She opened the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. I caught a glimpse of neat, perfectly straight rows of yogurt, water, apples. Everything was in rows from front to back. I looked at the kitchen. Everything had order, logic, feng shui.
For reasons that will be perfectly clear in a moment, I am going to refer to part of Patricia's body as "the beach." Neither of us was shy. Our clothes were off within minutes. I kissed her stomach, which was covered with a dark and intricate tattoo. It was a forest mostly—leafy trees, palms, vines, vegetation of great variety. In the foreground were two large pink flamingoes. As my lips traveled south, past the flamingoes, I found a starfish and two sea shells on the mons pubis—the beach. It was bald, apparently shaved religiously and meticulously. Her private beach. As I slipped lower, the beach became fragrant, smooth, and wet. I became entranced by the smoothest place on the planet. I lay between her lovely legs and my tongue swam along the shore. Her need then became clear to me and I surfaced, moving up and forward, past the starfish and pink flamingoes, back to her stomach and tattoo-free breasts. I let her guide me into her. And I dove into her over and over. I became dizzy with pleasure.
Every time we were together, I went down to her beach, kissing, licking, tasting the sexy-saltiness of her. Typically, I did not head directly to that spot. I want to save the best for last. So I kissed her lips and neck, caressed and kissed and marveled at her breasts. I played above the shore until the tide came in.
Some 517 years after Columbus landed in beauty, I too kneeled in semi-darkness and kissed the paradise I had found.
On our third date, she gave me keys to her apartment in case I wanted to stay in her bed while she was away on business or visiting her mom in Mississippi. Or if I needed/wanted her at 2 am and simply decided to enter her apartment and kiss her awake. I took the keys, but staying in her bed without her was not appealing. What appealed to me were her kisses, caresses, sighs, and whispers. Her mouth was intoxicating, and a few times I did kiss her into wakefulness and then into lovemaking and ecstasy.
