Night Flower

It had been a year but it seemed like only yesterday or possibly forever, since we had walked barefoot, arm in arm, on the white sands of Cancun together, sharing our little private jokes, lost in our own world where Tim would stop occasionally and pull me into his arms for a sweet, passionate kiss. He was a "Hands on" type of man always welcoming an opportunity to hold and kiss me. Tim was a king of romance and treated me as his cherished queen. Cancun was our personal paradise where we had spent our honeymoon and all twenty anniversaries since. This was to be the 21st year of hot sunny days and even hotter magical nights. It was early March and ice still lingered in my Oklahoma home but Cancun was a whole different world of warmth.

The soft, hot sand felt just as I remembered it, squishing through my toes as the tropical sun broiled down in splendor. There would be sunny days, just as years past, but no magical nights. Tim would not be with me this year, or ever again. He was too young and taken away so suddenly with a fatal heart attack almost eight months ago. I thought I would die with him and wished I could. My heart ached constantly as though half of it had been cut away. It had been a real struggle for me to make the decision to come to Mexico again without him but lately I felt his reality slipping away from me, the sound of his voice, the color of his gorgeous azure eyes becoming dim and I thought that it might bring his memory closer to once more visit our favorite place.

After unpacking at the hotel where we stayed each trip, I changed into shorts and halter top generously covering my face, arms, the exposed tops of my breasts and length of my bare legs with sunblock. Being a redhead and of fair complexion I always took extra precautions to protect myself from sunburn. Tim loved my light, smooth skin, he called it his "porcelain playground." He always spoiled me with compliments about my classic figure, being especially enamored with my full breasts and short legs. Unlike some women who were uncomfortable in skimpy clothing, my husband’s very, vocal appreciation of my physical charms always gave me confidence on the beach.

Blue water and white sand beckoned so I walked for hours on the beach. Tim once again seemed so real, so near. It was as though I could feel his tender touch in the soft, ocean breeze and once I even thought I heard his voice whispering, "Sweets" in the sound of the gentle waves caressing the shore. My name is Donna but Tim always called me Sweets, along with all the other terms of endearment he frequently gifted my ears and heart with. I assumed after so many months the sharpest sensations of grief would have passed, but today on the beach I found myself once again wishing that both of us had suffered that heart attack and I would not be forced to go on with a life that had lost its joy for me without My Love. Tears fell freely behind my sun glasses but no one who passed me seemed to notice.

That night my appetite was non-existent so I ordered a sandwich from room service and after eating half of it I laid down across the bed, alone with my memories of nights of sweet, hot love with Tim. The scent and taste of his skin, sound of his voice and the deep-blue fire of his passionate eyes remembered and savored as my body ached to be touched and loved and the dampness of hot desire drenched me; but no one was there to satisfy my burning need with knowing touches and kisses of fire. Finally sometime past midnight I drifted off to sleep and dreams of better nights.

The next morning I walked on the beach most of the day, lost in reverie and not actually seeing anyone I passed along the way until the sea breeze caught my wide-brimmed, straw hat and blew it softly to the sand. As I bent down to retrieve it, I almost collided with a man who had also reached for my wayward hat. Our hands reached the brim at the same time and as our fingers lightly touched I looked up into the most incredibly soft and meltingly passionate pair of brown eyes I had ever seen. They were set in a handsome, bronzed face framed by short, black hair, so dark it shone with blue highlights. He was quite a few inches taller than I and standing almost uncomfortably close. When his full, sensuous lips parted in a smile, I couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast of white teeth with bronze skin. I thought he must be one of the handsome Mexican citizens of this paradise and felt my suspicions confirmed when he spoke to me in Spanish, with a smooth deep voice.

"Buenos días Dama Hermosa, usted habla el Español?"

He had called me beautiful lady and asked if I spoke Spanish. I only spoke a little from remembrance of two years study in high school and I had doubts that he spoke English when I replied,

"Sólo un poco. Habla usted Inglés?

"Yes, Lovely One, I speak English and I’m very glad that you do. My name is Stevan Bull. And you are?"

"Donna, Donna Jupin, I introduced myself while holding out my hand to shake his. He took me by surprise as instead of shaking my hand he lifted it briefly for a soft brush of a kiss by his lips and dark Goatee.

"So, you are French?" he asked.

"Well no, my husband is, I mean was, French."

"That would mean you are a widow, no?"

"Yes, my husband died eight months ago."

"Allow me to offer my sympathies, you are here in Cancun alone?"

"Yes, most likely my last visit here."

"Oh no, you must visit again or how will I get to know you? And I feel a need to know you, Lovely Red Flower. It’s not right that such a beautiful lady be alone in paradise, so why don’t you have dinner tonight with me. A nice meal, a little wine and dancing, si?"

I wanted to say no, to be alone with my thoughts but as I looked alternately into the sweet, melting warmth of the chocolate pools of his eyes and then at the sculpted beauty of his bronzed chest, I found myself wanting to meet him at the restaurant at eight that night as he asked me but for some reason I couldn’t get past the feeling of still being married to Tim.

"I’m really sorry Stevan, I’m afraid I’m just not ready to be very good company for a date just yet; but thank you so much for the invitation."

"Well, I’m very disappointed, Lovely One, but maybe I will see you again before your vacation ends. Goodbye for now," He replied.

"Yes, that would be nice. I hope so," I called over my shoulder as I turned my back and walked away. I could feel the heat of those sexy, brown eyes watching the sway of my hips as I moved out of his sight. He was an interesting man, one any woman would welcome a pleasant evening with, if only………

That evening I took extra precautions with my appearance. Since Tim's death, appearance had become less important to me but tonight I felt a desire to look and feel beautiful again. After soaking leisurely in a hot bath soothed and scented with fragrant oil, I dressed in my best black, lace lingerie and a slinky, little-nothing of a black, chiffon dress with just enough flare to the short skirt to look alluring as it twirled around my long, sheer, black, stocking-clad legs on the dance floor and a neckline cut just low enough to give a hint of the full roundness below it. After applying light makeup, I took extra time with my freshly shampooed hair, twisting it up into an elegant French twist held in place by two pearl combs. All was completed with the dabbing of my favorite perfume in all the right places and slipping on my black heels. It had been so many years since any man but my husband had touched me, anxiety and excitement assaulted me at the prospect of going to a club and perhaps being asked to dance in the arms of some handsome stranger.

The club was lighted by candlelight and a band played Latin music loudly as couples crowded the small dance floor. The hostess showed me to a table for one, candle flickering brightly and a centerpiece of one red rose. It was the same little club Tim and I had spent such happy hours in, dancing the evenings away. The second night of our honeymoon we dinned and danced there and Tim had the band to play, "La Flor De La Noche" and from then on Tim called me his night flower whenever we made love.

As I was looking over the menu and hoping I remembered enough Spanish not to make a terrible mistake, I felt the light pressure of a hand on my shoulder as the waiter handed me a single red rose with a little note attached that read, You are the fragrant red, Flor De La Noche.

My Hands trembled and breath caught in my throat at the sweet, familiar term of Night Flower, used by my husband in our most intimate moments of passion and just as tears welled up in my eyes with remembering I heard a deep voice behind me asking,

"Lovely One, would you like to dance?"

Looking up into his face I was surprised to see the dark, melting eyes once again that I had gazed into on the beach that afternoon. Stevan Bull was looking more devastatingly handsome than ever in his dinner jacket and tie. I felt the blood rush to my face then I realized I had left him standing there a long moment with no answer.

What should I do, he was breathtakingly attractive and the warm scent of his cologne hung lightly on the air between us. Could I forget about my husband just long enough to enjoy a dance?

Placing my small, ivory hand in the masculine, bronze one held out to me, I followed him onto the dance floor where his expertise made me thankful that I had taken that course at the local community college in Latin dancing. He held my body so close to his that it became hard to keep my concentration on the steps. He was quite a few inches taller than me but powerfully built. It had been a long time since I was in this close proximity to such arousing manliness. My hands against his arm and shoulder felt the ripple of hard muscles as he dipped me deeply at the end of our dance and I felt my body begin to awake to desires I had been attempting to bury and deny myself for eight long months.

"You dance beautifully Donna," he remarked as he pulled up a chair from a nearby table converting my table for one to a cozy table for two. "May I call you Donna and join you?" He spoke with just the slightest accent and it was disarmingly sexy.

There was no denying to myself the desire I felt to just have him near me and to enjoy not only his company but some interesting conversation.

"Yes, Stevan, that would be lovely, to spend the evening with you. Are you a native of Cancun?"

"Oh, no, Donna. I’m just here on vacation. I live in Tennessee and find that a week in Cancun a few times during the year is just what I need to unwind and get in touch with my heritage. Being an Newspaper Operations manager is stressful and when I come here I leave the cell phone and pager at home. And you, Lovely Lady, where are you from and do you have a profession?

"Oklahoma, and yes I’m a mother, homemaker and a writer. I understand stress very well."

"Then tonight we drink wine and dance and forget about everything but the two of us."

And that’s just what we did; enjoyed dinner, a bottle of wine and many warm dances, our bodies moving together with near perfection. The feel of strong arms surrounding me was deliciously disturbing as I felt my flesh begin to awake like a sleeping tigress to her need for food. Tim and I were passionate soul mates, we made love often and it was never dull. Eight months seemed like an eternity to be deprived of the touch of a man’s hands and lips.

Stevan was such a gentleman, a good conversationalist and dancer. He pulled my body maddeningly close to his, as though we had been lovers for years and the scent of his clean skin and cologne fueled my desire to lift my lips to his and taste the sweetness of his kiss. Foolishly I fought the urge, still in a state of confusion as to the differences of being a wife and a widow; my reserve weakening when he whispered in my ear, causing little shivers to pass through my whole being and the fever of desire to warm both my body and thoughts.

"You are so beautiful, Red Flower." He whispered. "I never expected to meet anyone like you in a lifetime. Would you like to go for a walk in the moonlight on the beach? I promise to try hard to be a good boy."

"I’m not sure Stevan, maybe not tonight. I’ve had a wonderful time but I think I’ll just head back to the hotel now, it‘s late and we have danced the night away."

"May I walk with you and see that you arrive there safely?"

"No, I’ll be fine and maybe we will see each other again before our vacations end."

A look of obvious disappointment crossed his face as he lightly kissed my cheek then watched as I slipped out the door into the night. I wanted to say yes, desperately, but the grief and old ties to my husband seemed to prevent my reaching out to Stevan.

The beach was lonely that night. By the light of a full moon I could see the white caps on the gently rolling tide as it caressed the sand. A feeling of being totally alone washed over my senses followed closely by a burning desire to once again lie in the arms of a lover. Tears began to flow freely down my face as sobs of grief welled up from my broken heart. I ached now to feel the touch of a lover’s hands and lips on my fevered body. Soon I would have to chose to live again but tonight I longed for the nearness of my lover and best friend.

As I neared the hotel I recognized the deserted stretch of shore around me. It was a place Tim and I would often come late at night when we would be the only life stirring. There on the sand our bodies caressed by the gentle waves, we would make passionate love in the moonlight. I had already slipped my heels off and I walked to the little concession stand that was only busy in the sunlight. Reaching beneath my dress I pulled the black stockings off and stuffing one into each shoe, placed them on the concession counter. With thoughts of a moonlight wade in the water I approached the flowing of the waves against the shore. The feeling of aloneness now became unbearable along with the insistent yearning of my body to be touched.

Moving to the place where the waves gently crashed into the shore I sat down on the sand pulling the chiffon dress up around my waist. The cool water brought pleasured relief to the heat of my aching need as I bent my knees and spread them apart. I could almost feel Tim's warm breath against my neck and hear him whisper my name. Then I felt the light pressure of a hand on each of my shoulders and wine scented breath against my ear, mingled with the fragrance of a now familiar cologne, as he kneeled down behind me in the sand and whispered.

"Flor De La Noche, Beautiful Red Flower, you are so alone, and so full of love’s passion. Let me free you from some of this pain you carry. Let me make love with you. Will be alright if you need to pretend I am him, I understand. The time will come you will want me, for me, I can be whoever you need for now. Let me love you, until you can return that love and desire to me."

My tears were flowing freely now and every part of me was silently shouting , "YES!"

What should I do? Did I dare to take a chance on such a night of love with a near stranger? Would I regret if I did, or regret more if I didn’t?

Lifting my arms behind me, I placed then around his neck and gently ran my fingers through his black hair while his lips tenderly tasted of the perfumed skin of my neck and bare arms as his hands reached around encircling my waist.

"Yes, Stevan, Yes," I sighed as I felt the zipper of my dress fall open and my shoulders being bared of its soft fabric as kisses and tiny nips of fire fell on satin-alabaster shoulders and my body reacted with shivers of pleasure and hot fever of desire.

As his lips and tongue continued their pleasured journey against bare shoulders and I felt the soft silkiness of my hair fall against my skin as he freed it from the pearl combs, then the sensation of his hands slowly moving upward until they cradled the roundness of my breasts that ached to be touched and teased. I reacted quickly as my back arched involuntarily and pushed the already hard nipples against the palms of his hands feeling the heat through the sheer black lace of my bra. Moving one of his gentle hands to my back, I felt it moving up and down, soon joined by the wet warmth of his hot lips and tongue. My whole body was on fire, I needed him, desperately.

His hand moved skillfully and I felt the release of my breasts from the constriction of the sheer lace when the clasp was opened. Moving his hand against each strap, he eased them down below my shoulders and then pulling my arms free I dropped the bra onto the sand. The coolness of the ocean breeze against my unrestrained breasts and their buds so hard now that they felt like they would burst into flame, caused a gasp of pure pleasure. Once again my arms moved behind me and fingertips slid up into the soft darkness of his hair.

"Oh Stevan, I need you, I need you so much," I moaned.

"Yes, Lovely One, I know. I am here, to love you, to pleasure you and give you release."

As his hands closed firmly over both breasts, my pleasure heightened until I feared I would climax when his fingers pulled the nipples between his index fingers and thumbs and gently rolled and pinched each one. More kisses of flame now enticing the flesh of my neck and shoulders.

"You are so beautiful Donna, everything about you, so desirable," he whispered as he moved on his knees to face me drawing me up to mine and pulling me tightly into the strong circle of his arms he began a kiss such as I had never experienced before, full of tenderness and fire.

I felt the hardness of his need pressing against the heated valley of my own through the layers of our clothing as his lips drew first my upper lip, then my lower between them and his tongue playfully moved over both. The taste of his kiss so pleasant, like sugared fire.

"Mmm you taste so sweet, like candy. I want to taste every inch of you Red Flower," he murmured, "Your neck and shoulders your luscious breasts, those satin legs, the moist honeyed flower of your passion, the hot wine of your love."

His lips closed over mine as mine opened and our tongues touched, lightly at first and then with a growing force of hot passion, moving against each other so sensuously until our breath became one and our very souls seemed to merge. My hands moved to his shoulders, tugging at the dinner jacket and tie which he quickly removed and cast aside along with the shirt my hands had cunningly unbuttoned. His hands moved downward and finding a place of rest on each of my firm cheeks he pulled me urgently to him until there was no space left between our tightly molded bodies and the soft yielding of my bare breasts was pressed against the hardness of his muscles. Pulling away from our embrace slightly I moved my pleasure hardened nipples against his chest until soft, deep moans began to escape his lips and mine. My lips and tongue moved languidly over the terrain of sculpted muscles lingering against his hard nipples, kissing them gently and caressing them lightly with my tongue as my hand moved slowly down his love line unfastening the button and unzipping his pants. The soft hair felt moist with sweat as my long feminine fingers closed firmly around his warm hardness, the scent of musk from both of our readied bodies mingling with the fragrance of my perfume and his cologne. I had felt desire many times but this was a depth of heat I had never experienced before. It felt as if my whole body would explode with the need to feel the fullness of his thrusting, throbbing manhood deep within my hungry abyss.

As we both were lost in the fervor of desire somehow my dress and the remainder of his clothing ended up on the sand beside us, leaving only the thin sheerness of my black lace panties between us and paradise. Soft moans escaped my throat and drifted out onto the night as his lips and tongue moved teasingly against my nipples and the rose colored area around them.