They met after work to drive to American Stonehenge. They chatted on the way, he drove her Wrangler, up through New Hampshire, the summer sun hidden, a light rain falling. He brought her one of his shirts to wear against the chill. They walked up to the site after paying admission, hand in hand, eyes constantly on each other. They followed the map, reading what the number said, commenting on what seemed real, what seemed constructed, or just a huge leap of people trying to find something mystical. They walked to the Spring Equinox stone. The witch dug through her ritual bag, seeking her three wishes she wanted to burn, to ask the gods for their help. The three wishes written on bark. He has asked on the ride what they were and she wouldn’t say. He asked to hold the paper while she lit it. She looked to his eyes, smiled and handed it trustingly over. She lit the bark and he set it on the stone. The wishes were to keep their secret, to find her a new job, and well wishes for a friend’s father.
The left and went to have dinner. She had discussed her religion with him many times and had felt things from him, and he somewhat from her. They ate lobster and talked, eyes one each other’s. At the car he asked, if he was her best lover. She squirms and his her face, he badgered and pulled her close. She kept looking to his eyes, then away with a pang of guilt. She finally relented to that devilish grin, the touches, and the eyes on hers. “Yes, you are, easily.” He smiles and they kissed, the long passionate kiss of budding love driven by fiery lust. His taller framed leaned down to her, thick rich milk chocolate hair stroked by hair fingers. She blushed, her pale skin framed by auburn hair. The girl’s girls figure, full and curved, fertile. He stood tall, strong chest, virile, the dark eyes looking into her pale blue as her held her in protective arms.