Together At Last 7

As I walk down the jetway, my awareness is split in two. Part of me is focused on physical sensation: the swish of my long skirt against my thighs, the swing of my hips, the straps of my backpack pressing into my shoulders, my toes digging into my sandals with each step.

The other part is focused on you, waiting for me somewhere inside the airport. I think about how nervous I am. I hope you really do love me and don't change your mind the minute you see how I really am. I hope you really do like older women like you say.

Finally my divorce had finalized. Finally the kids were staying with my mother. Finally you had your own apartment. Finally I had the money together for a plane ticket, a long weekend with you. Just my luck to fall for someone who lives so far away. We'd been planning, and hoping, for so long, it's hard to believe the day had finally come.

I make it to the end of the jetway and emerge into the gate area. How I wish you were waiting right there for me -- I can imagine your eyes lighting up and that wicked grin crossing your face at the sight of me. Of course, no one has been able to pick up people at the gate for years now, but I still remember it. Another one of those proofs of my age that you always say doesn't matter to you.

I hesitate, looking for the way to baggage claim. Ah, there it is. I head down the terminal, my heart pounding in excitement as I quicken my pace. I'm both crazy with desire to see you in the flesh, and anxious at how it will be. You have always said you think I'm beautiful. But will it really be so? Will we click like we did when we met online, or will it be horrible and awkward?

Heading down yet another section of the terminal, I pass through that point of no return at security. The thought crosses my mind: I passed that point with you long ago, my darling. No security in leaving a husband, raising my children essentially alone, and risking my heart on a man years younger than me.

I had security with Daniel, but no longer love or passion. We were merely the good friends we had been back when we met in high school. I had found love and passion with you, instead, through online chats and texts and stolen time on the phone. Even video calls, recently.

The escalator down to baggage claim finally appears, and my heart thumps in my chest. I walk onto the top step and look down. As I descend, I see you down there pacing back and forth. Then you look up and see me, and stop dead, staring. Instead of the wicked grin I had imagined, I see that your face is so serious, and you swallow nervously

I step off the escalator and walk toward you. The moment stretches endlessly, and finally I stop in front of you, looking up into your eyes. "Hey," I whisper, staring at you, drinking in the sight of your face finally there before me. Without thinking I let my hand steal up to rest on the side of your neck, just where I'd imagined burying my face so many times. Now I know your heart is thumping, too.

Your hand slides around my waist, under my backpack, and pulls me closer to you. "Hey, baby," you whisper back. Finally the tiniest grin appears. I remember how often over the last months I had craved making you laugh, just to see you smile. "Do you have any more luggage?"

"No, just this." I shrug my shoulders underneath my backpack. "I like to travel light."

"Then let's get the hell out of here." Your grin finally turns wicked. I could swear you're going to kiss me, but instead you grab my hand.

We start walking. I feel how rough your hand is, think of the factory job you've been working. One of those things that always worried me, how different our lives are. I work with words, you work with your hands. But you always insisted that we had enough in common, that what mattered was our love for each other. I've always hoped you were right. Daniel and I had so much in common, but it still didn't help in the end. Maybe, just maybe, you're right.

We walk out of the airport through the parking lot to your truck. As you unlock the passenger door, I shrug out of my pack and climb in. I watch you as you get in the other side, and then you lean over and finally, finally, put your lips on mine. Just a quiet, soft little kiss, a promise of more. You rest your forehead against mine, whispering, "I love you so much, baby."

***

We drive out of the city, through a landscape thoroughly different than my home. It's summer, humid, and the landscape is richly green, fat white clouds in the sky. No dry, brown western hills and endless, empty, scorching blue sky. As we cruise along, your hand closes over mine on the seat between us. We're quiet, shy even. Once in a while you point something out to me in passing, but we both seem chastened by this enormous thing we're doing.

Finally we arrive. You park the truck outside your apartment and come around to open my door and grab my heavy pack. I smile, thinking, Daniel would never do that. He doesn't have a romantic bone in his body. You're old-fashioned, and I love it.

You lead me to your door, and again my thoughts are split. Feeling the sweat on my forehead from the humid air, watching your body as you lead me from the car, yet my mind also racing. I am so nervous. How should I act? Part of me wants to rip off your clothes the minute we get inside, and part of me has no idea what to do. We've been talking to each other for so long that we know each other well, but finally being together in person is a completely different thing.

I walk into your apartment, and you close the door behind us. As I stop in the entryway, you come up behind me and silently take the backpack off my shoulders. You put it down somewhere behind me, and then I feel your hands on my shoulders, kneading gently where the straps had been digging into my flesh. Then your hands slide down my arms and our fingers twine together, your arms around me and your body pressed into mine. I feel your breath on my neck as you press your lips there, so softly, and suddenly I realize I've been holding my breath. Relax, I tell myself. This is what you've wanted for so long. This is going to be a great weekend.

"Can I get you anything, baby?" you ask, your warm breath still tickling my neck.

"Water. Water would be great," I stammer out, my anxieties and your body against mine making it hard to stay coherent.

"Come on in and make yourself at home." You head to the kitchen while I slip off my sandals and sit down on the couch. The room is almost empty-you just got this apartment only a few weeks ago. I remember the day you texted me, "I GOT IT!!" I had immediately taken that VISA gift card mom had given me for Christmas that I had been saving, and made the plane reservation. I remember my hands shaking as I hit "Confirm purchase" on the airline website, almost crying with happiness and anxiety and relief.

You sit down beside me on the couch, breaking into my memories by handing me a tall glass of ice water. I feel your arm on the back of the couch behind me, your thigh next to mine, and it's almost all I can do to sip the cold water and not choke.

I know you're watching me drink, and it's making me even more nervous. Then you reach over and tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear, your fingers grazing my earlobe and the slightly sweaty skin on my neck. I put the glass down on the coffee table and turn to look at you. "I don't know why, but I'm kinda nervous."

"Me too, baby," you say, and as I finally let myself look into your eyes, I can see that it's true. Suddenly, I relax and actually start to laugh. You laugh too, and your arm slides down to wrap around my shoulders and pull me closer. "Remember how many times we talked about sitting here and watching a movie together?" you ask.

"Yeah. I don't think it's time for a movie right now though, do you?"

You are looking intently at me, your smile gone again. "No baby, I don't think so. I'll be right back." You give my shoulders a squeeze and get up, disappearing down the hallway.

Unable to sit still, I get up and look out through the sliding glass door of the living room, watching more puffy white clouds cross the brilliant blue sky. I still feel the tension in my shoulders and roll them around a little. stretching my neck. Plane rides always make me tighten up, no less the one taking me to the love of my life.

I hear you walk up behind me, and again you slide your hands around me, this time around my waist. I let out a big breath-have I been breathing at all since we got here?-and let my head fall back against your shoulder. Your hands slowly pull my t-shirt up out of the waist of my skirt and then slide underneath. I'm hot from the humid summer weather, but your hands are even hotter on my skin.

"I always loved seeing your beautiful breasts on our video calls, baby. Now I get them all to myself, for real." Your voice rumbles through your chest into my back, and your fingers trace circles on my belly, higher and higher. Oh hell, I think, you're gonna feel my stretch marks, I hope they don't gross you out. But these thoughts are driven from my mind by the feeling of your thumbs slowly circling my nipples.

One of your hands cups a breast while the other slides down the roundness of my belly, finding its way inside the waistband of my skirt and pushing me back against you. I can feel how hard you are, already, against me. The hand in my skirt wanders farther down, but I stop you.

Slowly I turn in your arms, your hands sliding around to my back, to press me against you again. I wrap my arms around your neck and look into your eyes, those green eyes I love so much. Then you kiss me, and my eyes close as I'm overwhelmed by the feeling of your lips on mine, your soft beard, then your warm, wet tongue touching mine. Thank God, you're a great kisser.

Our kiss goes on and on, endless. You taste so, so good. I desire you, my legs trembling, aching between them. I can feel my nipples hardening, rubbing on your chest. My heart is pounding in my ears. I melt into your arms, hanging onto you for dear life as my legs get weak.

You pull away from my mouth, looking deep into my eyes, whispering, "I love you so much, baby."

***

I follow you down the hallway on trembling legs. I haven't done this with a man in, well, I can't really count how many years. A first time, nervous, unsure what will happen, how it will be. So many years with Daniel with nothing new, no changes or experimentation or variety. Just familiar parts and sounds and movements, each time. Comforting; maybe even boring by the end of the marriage.

I try to ignore the panicked voice in my head: What will you think of my body? What if I fail in some way? I'd never had trouble pleasing you with my words or my voice before, that I know for sure, just as you had always immediately turned me on. I remind myself that this is love, this is it.

The bedroom is as sparse as the living room: most of the room taken up by a king-size bed, one chest of drawers. The blinds are drawn, leaving only dim lines of light across the bed. A ceiling fan spins above us. You sit on the side of the bed and pull me close, between your knees. Your head rests between my breasts, your arms wrapping around my waist, and you let out a huge breath. Is it a sigh of relief, of happiness?

I run my fingers through your reddish-blond hair, cut so short for the summer heat. I marvel at how soft it is. Then you look up and pull my head down to you, kissing me deeply once again. I have to hang onto your shoulders to steady myself, I'm almost dizzy with the feeling of your lips, your tongue sliding against mine.

I find myself sitting on your lap. You moan into my mouth as the roundness of my bottom shifts against your erection. No longer on shaky legs, I can let my hands explore you, marveling at the strength in your shoulders, clutching at the muscles in your arms as our kisses get more intense, deeper, incredibly passionate.

I feel your hand sliding down under my skirt, lifting it as your fingers seek out the planes and curves of my legs. You kiss your way across my face, suckling on my earlobe, giving me chills. I love how you take your time, how you love to go slowly, savoring each bit of skin and each sound or movement I make.

"I want to see you, all of you," you whisper in my ear, raising goosebumps all over me with your warm breath and the thought of laying myself bare to you. Your hands shift me on your lap, taking the hem of my shirt and lifting it over my head. I watch you feast your eyes on me, glad I bought a new bra and panty set just for this.

"You know that picture you sent to me of you in that red bra, that kept me going for a long time, baby," you say, your hands following your eyes. "But this is so much better."

I'm back to clutching your shoulders at the feeling of your fingers on my breasts, teasing my nipples through the pink and black lace. You run your fingernails across them, and smile as you hear my quick intake of air and then tiny moan.

"You're making me crazy," I say, hardly able to form words, fuzzy with desire. I squirm, feeling you leap and pulse underneath me. I look down at you, and see your eyes tilt up to watch mine as you take a lace-covered nipple in your teeth. My back arches, pressing my breast into your face. My eyes close, my fingers clenching into your flesh.

"Take off your bra," I hear you say. A tiny flutter of nerves runs through my stomach, but I am too far gone in lust to pay much attention. Your hands steady me as I reach back and undo the clasp, the straps falling down my shoulders. I pull the lacy thing away, tossing it to the floor.

My mind is still worrying, worrying about how unperky my breasts are, but you don't seem to care about that. You take a breast in your hand, lifting it to your mouth. Pleasure burns between my legs as your tongue teases me, circling, the tip teasing until my nipples are painfully hard. I'm moaning over and over, starting to fidget as the ache intensifies.

Without a word, you scoop me up, standing and turning to toss me on the bed. I laugh as I bounce on the mattress, throwing my arms over my head. You grin wickedly, pulling my skirt off, so fast you almost rip it. I luxuriate there, only in my panties, as I watch you undress.

I love your big, strong body, so different than Daniel's. New shapes, textures, all so fascinating and arousing. You told me long ago you thought you weren't well enough endowed; I told you I had no worries. I still don't. I want you so bad, want you in my mouth, want you inside me everywhere.

You kneel there by the bed and grabbing my feet, pull me roughly toward you. My eyes close in delight as you kiss the side of my foot, my calf, the inside of my knee. Then I feel your soft beard tickling the inside of my thigh, making me giggle. Your warm, wet tongue traces designs on the soft skin there. I am dying, I want you. I want everything, and nothing more than this.

I let out a cry of frustration as I feel you move away, taking up my other foot to worship your way back to me. I no longer love how you're taking your time. I am desperate, the ache between my legs ever more urgent. Your kisses on my thigh burn me, torture me. I hear you laugh quietly, and I know you can tell how insane you're making me.

I feel your breath now on my panties, damp with wanting. Your hands push my thighs apart, your lips grazing me through the thin cloth. Your teeth nip at my lips, and I cry out, moving my hips against you. I feel your hands sliding underneath me, lifting me, your face moving against my thighs again. Your fingertips curl into the elastic top of my panties, pulling them down and away.

"Look at me," you say. I open my eyes to see you looking up at me from between my knees. "Is this what you want?" you ask as a fingertip grazes the inner crease of my thigh.

"Yes . . . please . . ." I can barely get the words out, almost panting, writhing under your teasing touch.

I watch you move back up, feel your breath there. My eyes close as you kiss me, first on the soft roundness of my mound, then lower, feathering down my lips. I move my thighs apart even more, completely abandoned to the way you make me feel.

Your tongue pushes between my lips a tiny bit, sliding all the way down and then up. I feel like screaming with frustration. Your fingers push my lips apart, and then I feel your breath there as you draw in a deep breath, reveling in my scent.

I feel more than hear the sound you make, low in your throat, at the smell of my desire. Then, finally, your tongue touches my center. I cry out again, this time with joy, with pleasure. I have never felt this way, never in all these years. Your tongue circles me, flicking, probing, never ceasing. I am shuddering, my head rolling back and forth, my hips shifting constantly. Your hands slide on my skin, cupping me underneath as you feast on me.

You have listened to me come so many times already, over the phone or on those recent video calls, that you know I'm very close now. My hands are curled up in the blanket, clutching for dear life. Then you slide a hand around, two fingers teasing the wetness underneath your face, sliding inside me. I'm done, then and there.

My body is overtaken, the ache replaced with incredible pleasure. Your tongue and fingers never stop moving as you taste me exploding against you. Over and over my body shakes, moans replaced by a final cry and then no breath at all as the sensations peak inside me.

The shaking subsides as I go slack against the bed, eyes shut tight, but your fingers still move in and out, slowly. Then your fingers slide out, and I feel you climb up, your body lying against mine.

"Look at me," you say, pressing yourself hard against me. I open my eyes as the tip of your penis slides between my lips and then stops. I can smell myself on you, your mouth wet. Your eyes are truly burning, intent on my face as you lean down and kiss me hard, sliding your tongue, sweet with me, into my mouth.

At that same moment you slide inside me, my legs lifting to take you in. This is what I wanted, you, inside me, all of your body touching all of mine. I move my hands across your smooth, hot back, damp with sweat, reaching down to grab you and push you deeper into me.

You are moving over me, torturing me in a new way, filling me. Our bodies slide with sweat, the ceiling fan unable to cool us. We shift as you thrust, finding the place where pleasure is greatest. Your kisses trail down to where my neck meets my shoulder, and you bite down, hard, your hips pounding against me all the harder.

You lean up on one arm, never stopping your thrusts, and look down, watching my breasts shake. Your free hand reaches down to play with a nipple, pinching it, rolling it between finger and thumb. I cry out again, crazy with desire for you. Your hand clutches around the soft flesh of my breast, squeezing it hard.

I want this, want it never to end, but still I look up at you and say, "Come for me, baby. Inside me, come on, come on." I push up against you, desperate. My body shudders with each movement, my knees sliding up toward your shoulders, wanting you ever deeper. I dig my fingers into your back, scratching you.

Then you thrust faster, I know you're close. I pull you down to me, licking and biting your ear, your hot breath against my neck. Then you bite again, and stop moving, and fill me. I can feel you pulsing inside me, feel my body overflowing. Your teeth hurt, and I love it, the fierceness of your desire for me.

Sweat trickles off both of us as you lie on top of me, slowly kissing the spot where your teeth left marks. Then you let out a huge contented sigh, rolling off me but pulling me with you. I gasp as suddenly I am empty.

We lie in each other's arms, the fan finally cooling our skin. Hearts pounding, listening to each other breathe. My eyes closed, I feel you shift to put your forehead against mine, saying, "I love you so much, baby."