To my Love, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it for you.
They met by the sea after many years, many miles. Two lovers from times past, both hoping, seeking, dreading, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation of what the other had become, whether there would still be something, anything, or if they were fortunate, everything.
As they ate dinner, they spoke about old times and new while each one took in the changes that time had wrought, hair and mustache shot with gray, some gentle laugh lines, each one's eyes searching, watching, for subtle differences only two lovers would know.
As the sun sank into the sea, they walked along the beach, listening to the surf, watching the birds and talking about each other's lives, their travels and experiences over the years, how things had changed.
The moon rose, full and bright as they reached the villa, where champagne and delicacies await them, all arranged and the staff gone home, the perfect finish to a memorable evening; now they laugh and talk together, remembering, warming to each other, years of separation melting away like a morning mist.
Their conversation tapers off as they gaze into each others eyes, searching for the spark each hopes is still there, the little touch of heaven that made their lives so bright, so long ago; yes, it's still there, burning brightly, threatening to consume them from within, as they move closer.
On the balcony, they embrace, their eyes, brown and green and wide with passion's light, their bodies, one soft, one hard, press together with desire, a need long unfulfilled.
The time for words past, hand-in-hand, they leave the last of the champagne to the ocean and the full moon, eagerly anticipating the fires of past passions and the burning desire to kindle new flames.
Rose scented breezes softly stir the sheer curtains, swirling them across the floor and mixing with the faint scent of Egyptian cotton.
Golden light flickers warmly from a host of jasmine scented candle pillars, accenting the pale glow of moonlight on the marble tile.
Satin shimmers on the carved four-poster bed, as they move together, soft pillows fall, spilling over onto the floor.
Eyes boring into each other's souls, hearts pound as fingers move, feather-soft leaving hot traces on familiar curves, smooth skin dimples as delightful shivers precede passion's flowering.
Whispers of silk and gentle caresses produce a soft sigh, a languid stretch, as deft fingers release first one foot, and then the other from their confines, lips caressing each softly delicately, increasing the delicious tension.
Buttons yield as painted nails glide down to reveal toned muscle, red lips brush soft hair stopping to softly suckle and nip, brown eyes large with approval.
Slowly continuing with tender kisses, gentle hands softly caressing, silk brushing silken skin, hard muscle against soft curve, their passion soars, their desire, apparent, straining against confines of silk, and cotton.
Gentle strokes smooth golden hair aside, warm lips press softly to cool skin from bare shoulder to neck, finally nuzzling at throat's hollow.
Soft murmurs of pleasure follow as hands cup and caress, eliciting a sharp breath, a giggle, and finally a sigh as silk slips softly to the floor.
