How I Loved You

"Erica, I don't know if we should be doing this," he said almost whisper like, as if there was a hidden microphone in the hotel elevator.

"Don't chicken out on me now. You're the one who wanted to meet up, remember?" She invaded his space, and playfully tugged the cuff of his shirt.

"Talking about it is one thing, but actually doing it--"

She kissed him hard, biting his lower lip ever so gently, almost tenderly just way she'd done all those years ago. He moaned, and placed his hands around her shoulders to steady her. She looked into those slightly almond-shaped hazel eyes, and remembered how exotic he seemed to her when they'd had their time together, nearly ten years ago. He hadn't changed much, a little rounder in the face; a more matured filled-out man's body in place of that lingering adolescent former frame.

"I've dreamt of this," she purred. "I don't think you know just how much I've missed you." She kissed him again, and found their special shared spot, residing along the top of the pelvic bone. All men after him found it ticklish and funny, but Alexander found the spot just as erotic as she did. She massaged that favorite spot and his body came closer towards her in response.

She felt his hands wrapping around her small waist, a feature of which she was always proud. He worked his way down the small of her back and playfully spanked her bottom. She broke their kiss to share a smile. The elevator stopped seemingly out of nowhere, and the pair quickly put distance between them.

"What? Afraid you'll run into your husband?" He grinned while looking straight ahead as they watched an older couple enter the elevator.

"No," she lied. "Are you afraid you'll run into your wife?" She sounded flippant, and after she said it, she thought of how ridiculous it sounded.

"Considering she's in Boston, and we're in San Francisco," he laughed off her retort, "um no, not really."

The elevator chimed it's welcome to the lobby, and they made their way towards the hotel bar-restaurant. Once upon at time, The Rumba Room was the place to be. In the 1960's celebrities of the time made the place a high priority on their list. Erica imagined Sinatra and Dean Martin, and maybe even Monroe all sharing cocktails at a dark cornered booth. The bar still possessed the same 1960's lounge feel of its day. They decidedly went for a corner booth; it was secluded and apart from everyone else. The cold of the leather hit Erica's bare legs and she flinched in response. "Have you been here before?" Alex cupped the small bejeweled votive candleholder on their table before glancing over the cocktails special menu.

"Once before, but I was too drunk to remember," she fished through her purse for her compact mirror to check her lipstick. "It was a co-workers farewell party or something. I remember just loving the ambiance though; isn't it great here?" She lost herself for a moment, taking it all in. The bar was made to resemble a tiki hut on a Hawaiian island. Every fifteen minutes sounds of rain would fill the room via sound system, and you felt as if you were taking cover in the coolest of island huts.

Alex drummed his hands on the table. "So, are you still drinking the usual?" He smiled that Cheshire grin she so loved. He still had that mischievousness about him, and she loved it.

Which drink did he mean, she wondered; they had many shared favorites. "I trust you," she said. "Whatever you're having, I'm having." She watched him make his way over to the long, black marbled, wrap-around bar; the bar being the one and only element in the place that differed from the tiki theme.

It was hard to imagine him in his new roles of husband and father. When she'd contacted him the first time, she hadn't really given the passage of time any thought. Her life, while filled with adventure, had never given itself over to anything beyond marriage, so she felt she had remained that twenty-something girl he'd known years ago. Living in the city didn't afford many people mortgages and a house to look after. She had lived in the same flat for the past seven years, so she often found herself curious as to how the other half lived with their modern appliances and square footage to spare. However, she didn't think it appropriate to bring up things that surrounded their lives at home

"Ah, gin and tonic," she sang upon his return with two drinks in hand. "I should've known you'd pick a classic."

"Bombay gin, of course," he slid in beside her, and it felt like old times.

She thought then on one word: Monterey. One of the most beautiful places in California where they'd shared a weekend.

They'd driven there with the purpose of attending the noon Friday wedding of his friends. The ceremony she thought sweet. She always considered herself a sappy romantic. After the newlywed couple left for a much-anticipated honeymoon in Guadalajara, Erica and Alex spent the rest of the weekend fine dining and rolling around in high thread count luxurious hotel sheets.

"I need you," she begged while his lips covering hers, sucked greedily on the pout of her lower lip, and stifled her plea. He fought with the key card, flipping it this-way-and-that till finally slide it into the lock.

"Not as much as I need you," he was fierce with desire. In the room, he slipped off his suede lace ups, all the time never releasing her from his grip. She instinctively reached for his belt to unthread and loosen it for what was to about to come.

The room overlooked Cannery Row, and if you looked high enough out of the sliding glass door, which acted as the only window as well, you could just make out the line of ocean off in the distance. She'd felt oh-so-special when he'd asked her to come with him, because she knew he had other options. He offered to foot the $625.00 a night room, if she promised to take him out to the restaurant of his choosing.

"Close the drapes," her breath was heavy with anticipation. He shook his head in refusal and unzipped the front of her stiff cotton dress, carefully bringing her out of the trappings of her outfit. His eyes met hers, and he pressed her back to the sliding glass door. The heat of the afternoon sun stung her back, but her senses resided with him; she wouldn't think on the sensation until later.

Together, they burned lust. There was a sort fierce of animalistic passion in their lovemaking. As if they both thought he couldn't enter her fast enough. Lately, though things had changed. While the passion and fierceness still remained, he took more time with her, drawing out their shared pleasures.

He stepped away from her, slowly, to admire her from a small distance. This was something new that he'd taken to doing, putting her on display not for the sake of others, but for himself. He enjoyed taking her all in as if for the first time. His look would soften; he'd smile sweetly almost angel-like. She blushed and shied away her eyes from his, lamely crossing her arms across her chest; her pink lace panties her only cover.

"Why do you do that," he asked with genuine concern. "You must know how gorgeous you are." He took off his dark green wool sweater and tossed it by the unlit fireplace. "Erica, how many times have I seen you without your clothes on?" She shrugged and felt silly. Alex untucked his white button-up oxford shirt and made his way back to her. "You're beautiful. You don't have to hide yourself from me."

She looked on his bare feet first; his toes were kneading the beige carpet. Finally, she uncrossed her arms, and he danced them over to the fluffy-feather duvet covered bed. She laughed as puffs of the duvet encircled their bodies building a sort of fluffy wall around them. "Alex," she cooed, and a silent prayer was made; maybe tonight was the night he would tell her at last he loved her.