Anticipation is wonderful, elongating the encounter, all too brief it seems, that we share once every twelve months or so. It starts with an email, sent immediately upon the confirmation of my annual trip. The agonizing wait for a reply, not knowing if you will be in town and whether your circumstances, or your desire, have changed. And then it arrives, signified by the badge on my secret email app. Yes, yes, yes. How have you been? It’s wonderful to hear from you and of course. I cannot wait.
I remember the first time. You were hesitant, I the confident aggressor. Nervous chatter, lots of questions. And then, as if a switch had been thrown, you ignited. The sheer delight as I peeled off layer after delicious layer. The mess we made of the room as we thrashed about in a frenzy of pure sexual energy, almost frightening in its intensity. The reluctant parting, deep into the early morning. The certainty that this would not be the last time. The uncertainty of when the next time would be.
Over the years, a familiarity develops. Conversation flows easily, the pleasure of one another’s company is genuine. Confidences shared. But it is the particular raw urgency of our coupling that binds us together and makes the long waits endurable.
The intervening days and weeks crawl by. Restless nights, the occasional dream. Finally, a long flight. Fully aroused, senses heightened. A serenity begins to infuse me when I’m finally on my way into the city. There is first the matter of the business meeting, the necessary element to this game of secret passion. I muster all my energy to be present, to focus on the matter at hand, to push you out of my mind. But you linger. The anticipation is slowly peaking.
My god, you are beautiful. I know that, of course, but it still strikes me every time I see you again. Your stylish dress, accentuating your perfect body. Your wavy hair, your strikingly high cheekbones, full pouty lips, and your eyes. Those eyes – how they light up when you see me and remind me why I treasure these stolen moments and keep them so close.
And now here we are. The kisses passionate. The wine glasses put aside. The smell of you. The feel of your skin on mine. The warmth of your mouth on me. Your wetness. The way your back arches when I bite your nipples, the way you push up toward me when I taste your nectar. And finally, I find my home again, completing our union. So much we have been saving for one another. Cries of passion, screams of ecstasy. I roar as I give you the most intimate gift I have for you.
We linger, sharing more wine, conversation, laughter. Soon we are lost in one another again, guided by the animal lust inside and between us. The hours go by, and finally, reluctantly, we dress and part, embracing once, twice, three times, perhaps more.
An endearing note sent early the next morning on the way back to the airport and real life. And then the silence between us descends, waiting for the cycle to complete once again. Memories and dreams must sustain until then.
