Walking along the Quai de Montebello, with the Notre-Dame Cathedral just across the Seine, and Marissa's hand in mine, was the most classic romantic moment of my life. The morning sun warmed my face, and radiated lavender-scented body scrub from our bodies. A line of postcard and art vendor tables lined the street, and the city was coming alive. To be in Paris together, on a casual stroll this early summer day, felt like a dream I never wanted to end.
Marissa and I stopped and stared over the buckets of cut flowers at a florist's make-shift store, both realizing that she'd be leaving holding some of them. Bird of paradise, carnation, roses . . . the standard fare were all creatively arranged to look bright and inviting, and easily grabbed and handed to a lover.
"I won't tell you what I want, but I'm looking at it right now," was all the direction I was going to get from her.
A single red rose was soon pulled, and we walked on, with no particular destination in mind except being present and together. Several steps later, I unlocked my fingers from hers, reached into my back pants pocket, and pulled out a small, square envelope. Inside was a folded card, with a laser cut red heart on the front. I previously had written the following on the inside of the card:
"It probably is so blatantly obvious at this point, but just to summarize,
I'm completely and totally yours. I have no interest, nor will I, In anyone else, in any capacity.
It's as if I've completed a "Wishes and Desires" questionnaire, and every answer points right at you.
I hope this conclusion leads you to firmly believe that you are my one and only, and you have won my heart over many times. So just be yourself, babe, because that person is perfect to me. 14,5&73"
The numbers were from our own private numerology, and she knew exactly what they meant.
My clever and playful Marissa read the note, smiled, and then stuffed it in her back pocket. She knows me so well, and realized that I was anxious to see her response. But teasingly, she offered no reaction, but just kept walking along. I gave her a slight hip nudge, just to let her know that I was on to her game.
As we meandered along, passing people on their way to work, we were in our own world. Time was irrelevant, schedules nonexistent. Anywhere we were together was the right place to be. Fifty meters ahead of us was a small bookstore, which seemed like a perfect place to visit. We entered holding hands, but soon parted as our eyes sought out different genres. Toni Morrison's "Beloved" caught my eye as I made my way over to the poetry section. I found a compilation of poems by an 18th century British poet, and pulled it from the shelf. It looked like something Marissa would enjoy.
I pulled from my pocket a poem that I'd written for Marissa, and carefully placed it in the middle of the book, making it impossible to overlook. It read:
As much as I try, I can't sleep
Too anxious to feel your skin,
The touch of my lips on your neck
The feel of your arms around my waist
The weight of your head resting between my chest and shoulder
The sensation of my hands massaging your oiled ass . . .
Spreading your cheeks slightly with each stroke
The taste of you with each glide of my tongue over your body
-
The sexy sighs from you as we make love
The hardness of your nipples
The sting of your whips across my ass
The sound of my Mistress's voice
The feel of your warm, wet tongue in my mouth
Sleep is a chore now
I won't be whole until I'm with you
Won't find rest until you're in my arms.
I moved to Marissa in a nonchalant manner, and casually said, "This one looks pretty good, you should check it out."
I then walked away to the non-fiction section, while keeping a watchful eye on my gorgeous babe. She first looked at the back cover, then flipped the book open. The poem I'd placed inside immediately came into view. I noticed her eyes become more focused, and knew she was reading my poem. I could almost follow which line she was on by the reaction on her face. When she'd finished it, she looked over at me, and I quickly looked at the rows of books, teasingly pretending to be unaware of the wetness that was building between her legs.
She made her way to me, and gave my firm ass a good squeeze. I leaned down to her smooth, soft lips and gave her a kiss, letting my tongue glide slowly along her lower lip. Wrapping my arms around her, I slipped another notecard into her back pocket. Her new jeans were tight on her perfectly shaped and curvy hips, and her ass looked fantastic. Detecting something in her back pocket, she opened her eyes wide and let out a seductive, "Mmmmmm!".
This card was identical to the first, and inside my handwritten note said:
"One moment at a time, your natural born personality was modified and developed into this dynamic, intelligent, confident woman that I'm so in love with. You should know that my love for the person that you are is the most important aspect of how I feel about you. You're certainly a very strikingly gorgeous babe, but what really makes me crave you is the heart and mind in you. You're my queen because of all your inner qualities, and that just fuels the fire of my incredibly strong physical attraction to you. You turn me on, inside and out. 382"
I wandered away, letting her devour the note in private. Our chemistry, already very strong, was now heated and raging. Were it not for the bustling Paris streets, we would've laid down on that very spot and ravaged one another. She was behind me moments later, this time delivering a pinch much harder than the first.