Heather was an eager learner. Her appetite for sex was insatiable. Although I was supposed to be her “teacher,” I think I learned more from her than she did from me. I know I learned more about love from her than anyone I had ever known. Heather gave freely, asking nothing in return. She was never afraid to experiment, and there seemed to be nothing sexual that she didn’t like. Sometimes she was the aggressor, sometimes I was. Hardly ever was our sex life planned; more often than not it was spontaneous and wonderful. Although I am basically a morning person, if you get my drift, she had to ability to perk me up any time of day or night.
Because we had most of the next day to sit around and relax, we soon discovered that Saturday nights were perfect for our longer forays into making love. Most often we enjoyed a romantic, candle-lit dinner at home before getting into the serious stuff. A glass or two of Forest Glenn Merlot seemed to put a perfect glow into our libidos. On nights like this, she was not the normal, chatty person she was most of the time. In fact, her quiet solitude contrasted beautifully with the “other” Heather. Perhaps it was the sweet anticipation of what would soon be happening. Perhaps it was the deep love we felt for each other when we had time to relax and have a romantic time together, just the two us.
Despite not leaving the confines of our rented house, we usually dressed more than casually for our Saturday festivities. If fact, it was common for us to dress in separate bedrooms and surprise each other with our respective outfits. It almost felt like we were going on a date, and Heather had a way of making each “date” feel like it was our first one. We didn’t try to dress too sexily, just enough to give the evening a more than casual atmosphere. We were against going out for a romantic evening of dinner and dancing, but being alone together, just the two of us, was always sweet.
It was summertime in the Rockies. That usually meant a nice day of sunshine followed by an evening thunderstorm. The beautiful part of it was that we had a delightful view of the western mountains from the window in the dining room. Storms usually came over the mountain in an array of glowing lightning bolts and loud claps of thunder. As the storms moved eastward, they seemed to gather momentum once they were free of the high terrain and explode upon us before we knew it. We loved watching the approaching storms.
We had just begun dinner when noticed a storm gathering over Pikes Peak. It was hard to judge a thunder storm’s direction. Sometimes the storms would hug the foothills and never move further eastward, making the area far more green than the eastern plains. Sometimes they would veer north or south and miss us completely, giving us only a thunder and lightning show without torrential downpours of rain. No matter which way a storm went, we were always in awe of nature’s strength and beauty. And there was always the calm after the storm that brought a quietly romantic solitude.
Scary novels often use thunder storms as a backdrop for fear. Maybe the storms have their frightening moments, but as for Heather and me, we found them to be very romantic. There is something soothing about the sound of rain on a roof or against a window. We sometimes held each other under our blankets and just listened quietly to the pitter-patter of rain drops, knowing that when the rain ended we would be making thunder and lightning of our own.
As the storm clouds gathered to the west, we sat at the dinner table. I looked at Heather and smiled. I couldn’t imagine anyone being more beautiful. She was wearing a tight-fitting, canary-yellow, short-sleeved dress with a thin, black leather belt. Although the dress had a “V” cut at the bodice, it was, unfortunately, too form-fitting to reveal any cleavage, but it did hug her breasts quite nicely. The deep yellow of the dress contrasted beautifully with her red hair. Her deep blue eyes glistened brightly in the candlelight. The atmosphere was perfect.
I had chosen a white, cotton, button-down blouse, also short-sleeved, and a tight black skirt hemmed just above the knees. The blouse was not exactly sheer, but provided a sexy outline of my lacy-white bra through the thin material. The bra was the only undergarment I wore. I felt really sexy, sitting next to Heather, knowing that under my skirt was nothing but me, and it was all for her. I found that the longer I stayed with Heather, the less I needed panties. Panties were always in the way anyways. Why should I mind that she had quicker, unrestricted access to my goodies?
It was her turn to cook. Prime ribs. Sweet potatoes. Asparagus. Red wine. Our knees touched from time to time as we slowly ate our meal and chatted about a thousand things. Girl talk. Lots of it. Sounds of a soft guitar played sweetly on the stereo. We seldom had desert, but who needed it when there was some delicious after-dinner, extremely low calorie, eating pleasure between both of our legs?
“Care for another glass of wine, babe,” I said, already holding the bottle over her empty, long-stemmed glass.
She smiled. Her eyes were already slightly glassy, making them look even more sparkling and bright in the soft candle light. “Just half a glass,” she replied. “Or I might think you are trying to get me drunk so you can have your way with me. I hope you are not thinking wicked thoughts, young lady.”
“Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker,” I quipped as I poured the wine. I was already feeling a little giddy from the two glasses I had already consumed and I needed Heather to catch up with me.
She picked up the freshly poured wine and took a sip. A crack of thunder over the top of the house was soon followed by the sound of rain splashing against the window pane. The storm had finally reached us. I placed the bottle down, reached over, and placed my hand on top of Heather’s, squeezing softly. Even in the glow of the candles I could tell she was blushing.
“You look gorgeous tonight,” I whispered.
“And you do, too.”
She smelled better than summer roses. “Mmmm, what’s the perfume?” I asked.
“White Diamonds,” she replied. “I just bought some today.”
I brought her hand to my face and smelled her wrist, where she had obviously dabbed some of the perfume. “I like. Very sweet smelling.” I kissed her fingertips as she circled my lips with her index finger.
“I want you so badly, Beth. I have never needed anyone as much as I need you. You have brought something into my life that I had never even dreamed of. Now I wouldn’t trade it away for all the money in the world.”
“You say the nicest things,” I whispered, looking deeply into her soft, blue eyes.
“Only because you are the nicest thing,” she said. “It’s so easy to love you. Thank you for coming into my life.”
Still holding her fingers close to my lips, I moved my other hand to Heather’s downy-soft bright red hair and ran my fingers through it, brushing it away from her ear, exposing a diamond earring that sparkled like her eyes in the candle light. Moving to her face, I caressed her cheek with my fingertips, then ran my index finger over her eyebrow. I loved to touch her and I did so whenever the opportunity arose.
Heather smiled. “If I didn’t know any better, young lady, I would think you are trying to have your way with me.”
