Whole

Pinning her to the wall with my chest, I rose fiercely into the Amazonian goddess yet again. Our hands locked in a death grip on either side of her head, she grunted loudly between gritted teeth each time I thrust up into her. With each forceful rise, her eyes opened just a little wider, yet her gaze never wavered.

"Faster!" she gasped. "Harder! Please!"

I never could deny her anything in the ten years I had known her, but this one time, I did. Instead, I stilled myself, fully sheathed within her burning body. Releasing her hands, I held her head in place, my fingers curling in her silky red-dyed mane, and kissed her with the desire which had been accumulating inside me all this time. Her hands gripped my back along the shoulder blades, her fingernails burrowing into my skin as our heated kiss grew ever more passionate. I swallowed her every breath, filing each away in my soul to fondly remember years later.

When I at last lifted my head away from hers, she buried her face in my neck, gasping hotly against my sweat-dampened skin as I cradled her head as if she were a newborn babe.

How many times had I held her head to me like this before, only in comfort? How many times had she cried in my arms after yet another relationship had ended? Dan had been cheating on her – and on at least three other women simultaneously – for about three months before an acquaintance discovered and informed me of the truth, and I suddenly had to be the one to tell her. Eric had simply used her as a three-night-stand, then disappeared from the face of the Earth, sending only a crude letter which bore a postmark from Adelaide. Mike had left her "legitimately," albeit certainly not by his own choice, when he had been hit by an out-of-control car whose driver was trying to escape a police chase.

I could still feel her quivering around my invading manhood, her passion seeping around me. As I kissed her bright-red hair, her scent was intoxicating, and I felt that I could very easily lose myself in her.

Then again, I already had, ten years earlier.

We had shared the same college French class, but typically she sat by the window while I sat by the door. On the first day of class, virtually everyone had fixated their eyes upon her when she had entered the room: the six-foot-six beauty with bright-red clearly-dyed hair and clothes practically molded to her every curve had the attention of all but the most asexual of people everywhere she went in those four years of college. But I had not truly "met" her until she came in late one day and took the empty seat behind me, and then after class asked twenty questions about the upcoming exam. Somehow, that had been the innocent start to a beautiful friendship.

...a friendship which grossly outlasted any of her relationships.

"Take me to bed," she pleaded quietly, "please."

Once again, I obliged her wish. We each gave a sad sigh as I withdrew from her hot wetness. Hand-in-hand, we made our way from my living room to the staircase, and finally into my messy bedroom. Neither of us bothered turning on the lights, for with the glare of the streetlamps reflecting off the walls, there was more than enough light to prevent us from bumping inadvertently into something yet it was still dark enough to be romantic.

We stood beside the bed and kissed again, this time much more slowly, respectfully, tentatively, like our first-ever kiss earlier in the evening. This time, I felt much more at ease with the simple yet highly-charged act; after all, ten years without kissing anyone is a long, long time. Despite my lack of practice, she seemed quite comfortable with my performance.

I thought about all I had possibly missed over the past ten years. Certainly, we would never have been lovers from the moment we had met – that is simply not my style. But I wondered what memories we would have created together if Kevin and Eric and David and Juan and Scott and Ramon and several others had never gotten "in the way."

Yet, somehow, our friendship had endured everything. She had told me everything. I had been her confidant, her living diary, able to smile with her as she recalled every thrill and comfort her when each relationship ("He's the one, I know it!") suddenly ended. She had never spared any details, which often made me both envious and angry as, despite her intelligence, she never could seem to pick "the good ones" with the exception of Mike... although even she had long ago admitted that she had simply "blundered" into him.

Separating from my grasp, she turned toward the bed. But I quickly stepped up behind her, my hands cupping her ample breasts to pull her back against me. She did not protest; in fact, I thought I could hear her smile. As I balanced each feminine lobe and admired its weight, I thought I could just subtly feel her heartbeat resonating into my palms.

Suddenly, I realized that I could now say what I had wanted to say for ten years. Leaning forward slightly, my lips practically pressed against her right ear, I whispered in the near-darkness:

"Je t'aime."

She seemed to melt in my hold, her hands reaching behind her to stroke my thighs. Had she been waiting to hear those simple, powerful words from me for the past decade?

"Comme une amie ou petite amie?" she whispered in response.

I had to think a moment, translate what she had just asked back into English before even attempting to formulate my response. In the meantime, my fingers acted essentially on their own, squeezing her breasts gently and producing a soft whimper from her lips.

"Comme petite amie," I finally replied. Then I was certain that I was feeling her increasing heartbeat resonating through her breasts.

Now, as we stand at the window of our darkened hotel room and look out across The City of Love at the Eiffel Tower, we are a little older, but much happier. To be making love in The City of Love while looking out across the cityscape at the ultimate symbol of this great city makes that long decade of silent admiration and hidden love seem worthwhile. We may be older now, but there is no mistaking the fact that I am no longer just her living diary.

I am now, quite proudly, her husband, and now being able to call this stunning Amazonian goddess my wife has rendered my heart whole.