Lamplight Tryst

Special thanks to Kenji for editing this piece.

Moonlit Meadow

I climb the steps, turning out lights behind me. The only one left on in the house is the lamp in my room, glowing and visible as I enter. It is late, I think to myself, it has to almost be midnight. Tossing my shirt into the hamper, I peel off my socks and they follow the shirt; my loose shorts are the only thing left on.

My eyes fall onto the antique on my bedside table. The lamp had been my grandfather's; the old, battered red body with the newer simple white shade. He would tease me that it had been magic. And when I would tell him to stop joking, he would give me a soft, knowing chuckle.

It's not the only thing I have of his, but it's one of my favorite things. When I had slept over at his house, he would tell me stories of the woods before bedtime. Fanciful tales of him and the Man in the Moon; tales of adventure and mischief. All nonsense but I would follow his every word. My love of the trails had started there, I'm sure of it. Maybe the lamp is magic, I think to myself, hearing my grandfather's knowing chuckle as if he were sitting next to me.

I continue to get ready, slowly moving my sheets and fluffing my pillow. I reach to turn off the lamp.

An odd feeling comes over me. I pause and gaze about the room. My eyes fall on the window with soft moonlight spilling in. Something outside the window, I think, confused by the possibility.

Looking out my window from across the room, the moonlight glimmers off of something fluttering outside. What could be that size outside my second-story window? I should be scared, but I'm drawn to it. Slowly picking my way through my room to my window, I peer out and see the largest, stunning blue wings with huge eye markings looking back at me. The creature dominates my vision.

A moment later, my eyes adjust and I realize, instead of a moth's body, there is a beautiful woman suspended between the moth wings. Her curves are even more entrancing than the wings, and I can't help but stare. The moonlight doesn't just illuminate her-- she is glowing with the moon.

I should be scared.

I am scared, but I can't stop my hands. They flip the lock and tug on the sill. The window protests for a moment, but relents as it slides up.

It's a cool, autumn night and the breeze sends a chill through me, or is it her who is the source of the shiver? It is hard to tell. Her dark, beautiful eyes regard me with curiosity. I see the antennae rise from somewhere in her hair. In the moonlight, it's hard to tell if her thick, beautiful hair is black or brown, but I feel the overwhelming urge to reach out and run my fingers through it. It hangs down her shoulders over a soft cloth top, the material matching her bottoms.

"Who are you?" I ask softly, not entirely sure that I'm not dreaming.

"Moth," comes her simple reply.

Her voice is light, like the rustle of leaves along a forgotten trail. Goosebumps race across my body as it hits my ears.

I don't know what I should do, but I know what I am going to do. I slowly reach out my hand, offering it to the strange, beautiful creature. She smiles and reaches out to me. A sweep of her wings brings her closer to the house, our fingers brush and her hand is cool and delicate.

I make a decision.

I duck my head out of the window, and swing a leg out. Then the other leg. Now, I'm sitting on the window ledge. Able to get further out, I reach for her again. She flutters close enough that we are able to hook our hands together. I can feel the brush of wind after each flutter of her wings. The closer she gets, the more beautiful she is. My eyes are drawn to her, filling my vision; our fingers, grasping.

Staring into her eyes, I am lost. Moments pass, as her wings beat and our fingers become familiar. My breath catches and I gasp, as I unintentionally tilt forward, losing my balance while swimming in the moment. She clutches my hand tightly, and two powerful beats of her wings are enough to slow me, and I hit the ground, disheveled but unharmed.

She lands softly next to me, giggling at my clumsiness. I laugh, too; looking up at my open second-story window before my countenance returns to her. Her wings are huge and a beautiful, shimmering blue, but the woman attached to them only comes to my chin. Soft, and exceeding her wings in beauty, I can't take my eyes off of her. She has stopped laughing at my fall, and her big eyes meet mine; the smile playing coyly on her lips.

"You are incredible," I say softly, reverently.

This brings a moonlit smile to the being's face; her glowing as luminescent as the moon itself. The light is not just shining on her, but it is being amplified by whatever magic is a part of her.

I move closer to her, enthralled, her dark hair hanging to her shoulders beckoning my fingers to run through her thick locks. Closer now, I see her wings are intricate and have so many beautiful details hidden in the lace. I reach for her hand and our fingers intertwine; we stand together for a few moments, statues in the moonlight. Not sure what this night is, but both of our eyes are sweeping the other's, admiring one another. Why my window? I will never know.

She turns and begins walking, her soft, sweet hand pulling mine. We go towards the woods behind the house. I've played in these woods my whole life, and know them like the back of my hand. As we enter, the soft swirling of the leaves play across our bare feet. As we walk the trail, hand in hand, I realize this isn't the trail I am so familiar with. We had walked in, like I had done countless times before, but we are somewhere else. It feels ancient.

This should bother and unsettle me, but with my hand in hers, I am content. Wherever this trail leads, with her, I will walk there.

We walk side by side, with her wings giving the occasional beat that lifts her off the ground as she giggles. A creature of beauty and whimsy, she is enchanting, as is this trail. The trees are observing us as we pass; I know not where it leads, or the things that make the sounds I have never heard in the deepest part of my woods. These are not my woods, but I had left fear at the trailhead, intoxicated by wonder.

We talk, while we walk. About this and that. Mostly that. Her voice is playing across my senses. Her words warm me and bring a smile to my face. I don't know if she was first a moth or a girl, or if she had been born a goddess. If she is of this world, or the one hiding just behind ours. I'm not sure she knows either. What are these questions to a being like her? Fluttering through the material, enchanting all she comes across.

The trail winds and weaves, the branches always leaving enough room for the stars to watch our tryst, the moonbeams dancing along the soft forest floor. Bugs and small creatures are going about their night; sometimes, stopping to peer, as the goddess and the man walk, hand in hand.

How long this night has lasted is anyone's guess, but the beautiful creature's soft feet slowed. Ahead, the trees gave way to shrubs and into a meadow. It was vast, the tall grasses swirling and waving playfully as the wind teased through them; they walked to the edge of the clearing.

With the moon full and heavy in the sky, the beautiful moth smiled up at the moon like an old friend. I can't explain how, but the moon smiled back at the soft, perfect woman. Our hands still laced together, we basked, for a moment, in the bright moonlight. Each detail of her face is better than the last; it feels like a dream, but I fight to memorize and remember every bit of her.

Without warning, she breaks her grip, and with a beat of her wings, she bounds into the meadow. The look she gives me, spurs me to give chase. I need her. I need her in my arms, beneath the moon, and she needs me. Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see the man in the moon chuckle.

Giving chase, I race across the meadow, tall grasses whipping at my thighs, the ground pounding beneath my bare feet. She giggles and teases, as each push of her wings hurdles her across the grassy plain.

The soft glow of the moon, along with her irresistible curves, fuel me. I need them. She bounds along and I am closing in. Her eyes are bright, as I see her next jump before she makes it, and race towards the landing spot. Her eyes widen in surprise, as I capture her in my arms, pulling her with me to the ground; she lands on top of me, as we breathe heavily, lying in the soft bed of grass our fall had collected. Giddy, we laugh like children, but the exuberance fades. A heavy weight settles on us-- the need we both feel has found us.

We lean in together, as the whole night freezes in a moment. Our lips meet and the whole meadow goes silent. Both of us open our eyes before breaking the kiss, feeling the awe-- a soft strum of a perfect moment that reverberates through the materium. Neither of us is doubting that this time, this place, is exactly where we are supposed to be at this moment in time.

We both close our eyes and our lips meet again. The perfect moment shatters under the weight of our desire, the motion and the need as our lips explore each other greedily-- the heavenly moth astride the man, as the moon bears witness.

My hands devour her curves as hers pull and tug at me. Her soft, sweet skin is intoxicating. I need more of her. The wind sweeps through the meadow, rustling her wings and my hair. Our needy kisses trail our hands, working to find more of one another as we bare ourselves to the moon's witness.

More is exposed; more is explored. Neither of us is able to get enough of the other; soon, we are joined as her wings spread, blanketing us from view. Rocking together in rhythm, our mouths are not making words, but sing the primal song of pleasure-- the moans rolling out, along the meadow, like waves; spreading the novelty of our union to the trees and nymphs. Faster and needier, we rock together, the sounds of nature swelling with our own crescendo.

Her beautiful blue wings are protecting us from any prying eyes. The moonlight coming through the sapphire membrane gives this moment an even dreamier quality, as we climax, wrapped firmly in each other's arms. The flood of pleasures and satisfaction threatens to drown us, as we gasp and clutch at each other; our hips still rolling, as we slow to a halt. Her forehead comes down to mine, as we kiss again.

These kisses are slower, appreciating the moment we have shared. I softly trail kisses along her jaw to nuzzle her neck. She shivers, still astride me; her head falling to my chest. Her beautiful fingers draw soft, slow circles in my chest hair, as she sighs softly on top of me. I brush her antennae back and kiss the top of her head as she dozes, and my eyes are heavy; we are naked, yet covered in our soft, grass bed.

Both of us are asleep, the moon watching over as the universe spins above us. Time is fuzzy and we awaken, with no idea of how many hours, or days, or even years have passed. It feels impossible to tell. We kiss softly, knowing we must return. There are few words spoken, as we soak in our moments, quietly walking back through the ancient forest. Taking short breaks under the starlight breaking through the canopy, we kiss-- feeling the echoes of our need, as our lips touch and linger.

We find ourselves at the entrance to the forest.

Standing between two worlds, we embrace as our hands steal a few last moments of each other's warmth. The very first of the sun's rays hit the top of my house. I glance up to see the light from my grandfather's lamp still peeking out of the open window.

One last long kiss before we break the embrace, and she walks backward into the woods. My woods, and hers, she fades from view as the sun rises. The warm rays are not able to chase away the coldness I feel. I wait for a long while before turning to walk back into my house.

Sitting on my bed, and as I reach for the lamp, I can hear my grandfather's knowing chuckle.