The moon beat me inside, a softening haze through the front door, leading me home. It's been a while since I've been here, but one thing would truly assure me that I was safe. I've been nursing a raging erection for the better part of the day, rising and falling in quicker increments since I was stuffed in the center of row D of a transcontinental flight, reminding me of the pot of gold at the end of my traveled rainbow. I fought it during the bland imitation of cordon-bleu and a worse imitation of a modern cinematic comedy. It was a losing battle as the flight was stuck in a holding pattern for an additional hour, circling a city besieged by a downpour.
It didn't help matters by fiddling with my phone to pass the time. The screen saver was of her, face frozen in a laugh, teeth so white they could have been photo shopped, framed by plump lips. We kept in touch for the last couple of months, but all the emails and texts couldn't make up for one night of furious passion. She sent me a slew of pictures, my memory card packed full of pixed beauty. The first few were tame, shots of her in familiar places. Then, they got more risquΓ© as the weeks passed. Just waking up, brushing her teeth, or making dinner segued into lying under a cover of bubbles in the tub, posing in newly purchased lingerie. The other shots I didn't dare pull up. People have been detained by TSA for less.
I struggled with the recurring throb as I shuffled through the cattle call of customs, declaring nothing but the fact that I sought the dire relief of the moist cavern of lust that awaited me, nestled between thighs softer than the newest grass on the first of spring.
I used monosyllabic answers with the cab driver, biting my lip to keep from blurting out, "Drive faster, ass clown, before I bust a rope on your earlobe!"
He barely shifted into drive before I was flinging bags on the floor of the living room, followed by my clothes, a blur of wrinkled cotton and worn leather. The only person up to greet me was Morris the feline, staring at my actions with a sideways nod, before going back to calculated licks of his groin. If only I had that talent, I wouldn't have been in such a rush, then again I made a promise.
No sexual release while apart. That meant no extra soaping up in the shower, morning wood rub outs, or finding a stray jet of water in the hotel jacuzzi. I even kept the hotel television tuned to CNN to avoid any temptation from the carefree European lifestyle. Now, I was a ancient levee, ready to crumble at the pounding waves of euphoria that crashed into my psyche.
The living room table was scattered with blown out candles, a place setting for two, wavering scents of a once hot meal put up for the night. She wanted to welcome me home properly.
I left Morris behind to his own devices, making a beeline down the darkened hallway. The door to the bedroom was left ajar, a routine left mainly for the furry ball licker on top of the couch. My own breath quickens as I push on the knob, once again greeted by the mocking moonlight.
I could smell her, baby powder and lilac. I took a deep breath, taking it all in. She slept with her back to the door. The comforter long since cast aside, shoved away sometime during the night, a minuscule mountain terrain by her feet. She slept in the nude, as usual. A peaceful pose, hands cupped underneath her face. Her hair was braided into a neat que, trailing alongside her prone form.
I hooked my thumbs into my last barrier of cloth, sliding them down thighs as I stepped to the bed. For a brief second, I became enamored with another as the lone pillow beckoned me, sleep escaped me for the past 14 hours. It was only fleeting as she stirred, ankles rubbing together, an unsounded cricket calling for it's mate. Sleep was once again an afterthought.
I crawled into bed, starting with her toes. Ten perfect soldiers, adoring red helmets, waiting for battle. I kissed her big toe first, watching it wiggle from contact. I didn't dive bomb on them, just dropped little lip salutes upon each of their heads, moving upwards.
She hummed a muted approval as I moved upwards, tickling her calves with my beard stubble. I rose up to check on her, she was still slumbering, or a damn fine actress. I followed my path back to her calves, taking my time to savor what I've been missing. She tasted divine, a cornucopia of soft flesh, new growth of baby hair since her last shave. I took in every detail with renewed interest, storing them away in my mind. I listened to her deep breaths as she still slumbered, a barely audible wind.