*See "Preparing for my fantasy" for the beginning of this story*
*
It takes twenty minutes to rouse you from your sleep. Gentle prodding, whispers. Part of me wants to give up because I am afraid, part of me stifles giggles. I send you a text "wake up" and a wink. When I don't hear your phone, I sneak it out of your pocket and place it next to your head. I send a few pictures of what is waiting for you.....me. Each time I try to wake you, I race back to the bed. I am nervous and excited when I hear you moving through the house.
When you walk into the bedroom, soft red light fills the room and candle light cast soft shadows. Sensual pop/rock beats in the background, songs of love, sex, and desire. Laying in the bed is a woman. My arms overhead leave me exposed, inviting. Dark brown hair falls soft on pillows. Deep brown eyes reflect an open heart and love with a sparkle of desire. Sensuous red lips, parted turn into a shy grin. A slight blush rises to my cheeks, embarrassed by my own fantasy. Soft mounds of breast peek above the bra cups, contrasting with the red and black lace covered lingerie. They rise and fall, shallow breaths of anticipation and desire. Small rhinestones sparkle in the flickering candle light. Your eyes travel down over the gentle curve of my hips. Red and black give way to soft thighs, the bend in my knee, smooth calves, and red painted toenails.
Your eyes come back to meet mine. When I look into them I see...a question...an answer? Both, maybe. All my nervousness evaporates when you breathe "Wow." You step closer to the bed and continue to gaze at me. Tiredness and stress leave your face and is replaced by calmness.
Standing by the bed you whisper, "You...are...beautiful."
I reach out for your hand and take it in mine. I pull myself up and kneel in front of you. Hands together, I place my forehead on yours. "Thank you," I whisper and I place a soft, sweet, slow kiss on your lips.
I remove my hands from yours and slip your shirt off over your head. Your chest is smooth, your shoulders strong, my palms travel over them. I pause over your heart, feeling it beat beneath my hand. Up, over, then down your arms, gliding across muscles and skin, back to your hands where our fingers intertwine. My slender, feminine hands laced in your strong, masculine ones.
"The best thing 'bout tonight's that we're not fighting," Secondhand Serenade's words fill the air. I lay my head on your shoulder and inhale your scent. Your hands release mine. Strong arms wrap around my waist and sweep me off the bed onto my feet.
Embracing me, "Let's dance, let me hold you," you say.
My face nestles into your neck, your cheek rests on the top of my head. Vanilla, pear, and gardenia, my perfume is flirty and softly rises to reach your nose. I hear your breath in my ear. My hair is sleek and smooth, falling just past my shoulders. Remnants of summer sun linger there, on my shoulders and my back. Your closeness leaves goosebumps, every nerve ending is aware.
