September is a lovely time of year. I close my eyes and think back to new school supplies, wonderful new short skirts, turtle necks and my first high heel boots! Excitement of the new boys in class and which one sat closest to you in math class. Leaves turning, a chill in the air each morning and an electricity that I still feel to this day. I just love September, it is my favorite month of the year! Lucky for me it is also the time of year that I celebrate my birthday. I always feel like the energy that flows on a breeze is a gift to me to celebrate another passing year. Just like in school, where there is always a new boy who catches my eye, this fall has brought a new man to my school yard. I call him the Muse, which always brings a smile to my face. I wonder what will the muse give me for my birthday???
Boston in the fall is glorious. The crisp air still embraced with hints of the summer gone by. The North End filled with Italian restaurants opened to the streets, as you pass you can waltz through a private moment of a couple lost in each others eyes. The voltaic experience of gliding through a mist of passion held by two strangers only heightens the desire that I feel racing through my Muse's hand.
We become one of those couples sitting in the open air, the stars appearing one by one just for us. I feel romantic tonight. A long flowing black skirt, layered to shift like mists on a warm lake. White silk shirt open a tad more daring than I would normally allow. With each small gesture the silk runs over my smooth skin. My nipples rise to meet the cool breeze that floats by us. The Muse smiles, seeing I am not wearing anything under that soft graceful pure shirt. He knows I did this for him, thinking of this exact moment when the breeze would cool the material causing my female essence to rise through and towards him.
Dinner ordered slowly, each course an experience of divine sensual taste! I watch as the deep red 1997 Stag Leap Cabernet Sauvignon clings to the edges of the glass as you slowly raise it to your lips. I so desire to be that complex wine that you suckle like milk of the Gods. I imagine what my body would feel with those soft lips moving down my neck towards the searing nipples that so need your touch. The wine is thick like our desire, full, rich and ripe. I see you smile with appreciation of a fine Cabernet. The warmth of the wine traveling down and through you, mixing with the passion that burns deep within your very core.
Oh how I love to watch you silently. Your hands move, your eyes glance in appreciation of beauty that others ignore, your legs in tailored pants fit perfectly, male beauty deeper than the physical. My heart begins to race, your eyes open and meet mine. My breath pulls in hard, everything stops, mind, time, the stars, moon, all are gone! There is only us in that lost second, one that will last forever. Passion mingled with deep understanding of another. A pure moment of seeing yourself reflected in the other and knowing that all will be all right.
Leisurely, a smile grows on your face, one I have memorized for all the lonely nights I need to find relief in my own touch. "Du Lac, I have a present for you!" I smile shyly, for I did not expect gifts, your company is a present in it's self. From your jacket you produce a small slim box wrapped to perfection, gold and silver held together with a hand tied simple bow. I smile, for I know it will be something silly to make me laugh, our laughter a soul dance that flows so easily. I pull at the bow and it slides free easily, like clothes falling to the floor right before you step into a warm fragrant tub.
