It was one of those nights, the kind where you wake up for no reason and can't go back to sleep. It came as quite a surprise since, after the wine at dinner and our passionate love making, I had fallen into a deep dreamless state. The waitress must have given me caffeine in spite of my request for decaf. It was the only explanation that made sense.
Well, at least I had the opportunity to observe him without making either of us uncomfortable. He was lying on his side, breathing in that deep steady rhythm of restful sleep. The covers came to his waist leaving his torso and back exposed to the soft light streaming through the curtains. I loved the way he looked and I wanted to run my hands over all of him.
I was sitting in the upholstered chair across the room from the large four-poster bed, my knees pulled up and my head resting on the top of them. I just watched him sleep and reflected on how we met. We certainly had a story to tell; that is, if we could ever tell it.
My arms released my legs and I stretched out, running my hands down my semi-naked form. Just the sight of him brought me to a state of arousal. I slid my hand under the edge of my panties and down to my slit. I was moist. I toyed with the idea of waking him, but hesitated; he looked so at peace.
His face moved with the expression of some unknown dream and he sighed as he rolled onto his back. He looked different when he slept. The deep relaxation changing the appearance of his face, stress and tension eased. I wanted him like this. I wanted to kiss this face.
I stood silently and slid my panties off, stepping out of them toward the king size platform that engulfed this room. I wanted to move without waking him, so I proceeded slowly never taking my eyes from his form; alert for any sign that I had disturbed him. I saw none, so I continued to the edge of the bed.
I climbed the small step stool positioned on the side. The moonlight behind me cast a shadow over his face as I stood over him. Slowly, I lowered myself into the bed making as little movement as possible. I slid my feet under the covers and moved as close to him as I could. I thought I detected some movement under his eyelids, but after a moment his breathing steadied and I was reassured that he still slept.
Again, I marveled at out meeting. Do you ever wonder whether God makes one person and then splits them in half sending them out into the world and letting chance determine if they should ever meet? I pondered this thought as I looked at him. I would not have him long, our respective lives were well established and our sense of obligation too strong to give in to our personal desires. I would cherish what time we did have.
My fingertips brushed his face as I traced the outline of his mouth. I loved it when I could make him smile. I moved on to his forehead, which bore the lines of worry and consternation. Life could be hard sometimes. I wondered, was life easier or harder since we had met? His eyes flickered. Had I woken him?
My hands moved to his chest where I began to touch him purposefully. I traveled up and down his body seeking every ridge and depression. I wanted to feel him, caress every muscle; learn the map of his body in the dark by touch alone. I could smell the scent of our earlier encounter and breathed it in deeply, savoring the mix of our flavors. I kissed his shoulder, then his neck and finally his mouth.
