tagRomanceVixen's Savannah

Vixen's Savannah

byVixen©

I did warn him, you know. I told him that if he ever ended up in one of my "must see" cities, when I had a free weekend, I might just hop on a plane and surprise him.

He travels all the time. I love it when he calls me from airports to keep him company until he boards his next flight. But I'm sad when I think of all the nights he spends alone in hotels. Many nights, we talk each other to sleep on the phone. That's nice, but it's so much nicer when we talk each other to sleep in bed, together.

So he called Thursday morning from yet another airport. On his way to Savannah. He'll be there for at least a week, depending how long this project takes. This is the first clear weekend I've had in two months -- no board retreats, no facilitating gigs, no meetings, no classes. No "obligations." Nuthin.

I planned to catch up on sleep and read a completely frivolous book this weekend.

But Savannah? Oh maaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnn, as my friend Bonnie says. Savannah has been on my "must see" list since I read Midnight in the Garden of Good & Evil years ago. And then I saw the movie and knew I had to be there, just once. So, I figured "What the heck? I can sleep and read on the plane."

Step 1: Call travel agent.

Step 2: Cancel Friday appointments.

Step 3: Call his hotel (thank goodness he always gives me the number).

The hotel manager was so nice. People do seem to love romance, and it's pretty easy to "enroll" them in helping. Probably didn't hurt that I upgraded the reservation and let the manager create the story to "cover" why the original reservation couldn't be honored. But it was a little odd. I'm not sure that I would be a happy camper about people messing around with my hotel reservations.

Just a couple stops to make on the way to the hotel. I have finally figured out not to pack 10 pounds of candles in my carry-on -- they are actually sold in most cities. And thank goodness for cell phones - I called his from mine and he didn't have a clue that I was within a mile of where he was working! I didn't exactly lie... told him I was running errands, didn't know what the rest of my afternoon looked like, and just wondered what time he might be back to his hotel. Sneaky, huh?

When he opened the door to the room, it was ready. The way only I do hotel rooms -- a hot bubble bath waiting for him, hors d'oeuvres, a bottle of very good wine, his favorite music playing, fresh flowers all over the place, and lighted candles on every flat surface... except the bed. Don't like candles on the bed. Makes me nervous.

The look on his face was worth it -- I'd pay just about any price to see his face go from "another night in a hotel room" to that expression of joy and amazement. It's his huge smile and the way his eyes sparkle that just make me melt.

"Hi, honey. I was in the neighborhood and thought maybe you'd like some company. Surprise!"

"Vixen, what are you doing here? How did you get here?"

"Well, see, they have this terrific Gray Line tour and I didn't want to miss it. Um, just used the usual plane/car combination, nothing too fancy."

By the time I had finished half the babbling, he'd taken me in his arms and shushed me. He's the best kisser I've ever met. I'm not certain what it is that makes him so special, maybe the fact that he pays total attention to what he's doing. When he kisses me, the universe shrinks to just us, just our mouths and tongues. Well, and hands, of course. And bodies.

I'm probably not explaining it well, but my sense is that we're each completely aware of the other. I don't ever come out of a kiss with him ready to finish the sentence I was saying when we started. You know that feeling? When you finish kissing someone and the first words out of your mouth are "oh, yeah, what I was going to say..." Like the kiss was an interruption in something more important, and your brain just kept rolling along, waiting for its chance. With him, time stops. The "chatter" in my brain quiets and, oh, it's just magic, I guess.

"I'm so glad you're here, lover. I really was not looking forward to another weekend alone."

"Oh, WHEW, and here I was afraid you were going to walk in with a buxom wench on each arm." That smartass crack earned me a gentle swat on my bottom.

"No wench, lover. I was just going to shower, maybe order some dinner, go to bed, and call you."

"Handled."

I stepped back just far enough so that I could reach the buttons on his shirt and slacks. I've always been very slow opening presents. It used to make my family crazy on holidays, but it translates nicely with my lover. Unwrapping him is the best present I ever receive. He doesn't seem to mind the time it takes. Quite the contrary, judging by results, it seems to excite him.

And, of course, I had to thoroughly investigate each area my unwrapping revealed. Looking, touching, tasting. Making sure he's been taking good care of the body I love so well. Once again, the sight of him takes my breath away.

"mmmmmm. You taste so good, but your muscles feel a little tight."

He did that cute thing with his eyebrow.

"Silly... I like having THAT muscle tense. I meant your arms and legs feel tight... and I may have the solution."

Following some gentle horseplay, during which my robe somehow came undone, I managed to deposit him into the tub. I just love the image of that strong, furry, very masculine man up to his chest in bubbles. Bubble baths bring out the playful in both of us. It's fun to sit on the edge of the tub and alternately wash him and feed him. And talk about our weeks, and what we've been up. And laugh. And blow bubbles at each other. And just be together.

Candlelight, good wine, nice food, making bubble sculptures all over him, then rinsing them off. I knelt by the side of the tub, rubbing his neck and shoulders, and let him enjoy the hot water, just as I'd enjoyed my tub an hour earlier. I even brought a rubber duck, just in case he got bored. Duck floated in peace - totally ignored.

"This is perfect. I love it when you surprise me, but this is the best one yet."

"And I love to surprise you, but I thought you'd be more shocked... this one really involved pulling some large rabbits out of the hat."

"Silly Vix, do you know how long I had to plot this - to get the timing just right so that my trip to Savannah coincided with a clear weekend in your insane daytimer? I knew you couldn't resist."

"How could you possibly know that? We've never talked about Savannah."

"Didn't have to, darling, it's the only book in your house that's always out."

"You weasel! You set me up? Did you tell the manager that I might be calling? Was that why this was so easy to 'fix'?"

"No, honey, I didn't know you were here. I just hoped really hard that the trap would work. Now go wait for me in bed, while I rinse off all these bubbles."

As he comes to the bedroom, he has a towel wrapped around his waist and is drying his hair. I watch and wait for him in bed. I love looking at his body, watching him move. He's an athlete -- he moves so well, is so "present" in his body, so comfortable with it. Maybe it's a "guy thing", but I've never felt that comfortable in my body, so sure that it would do what I wanted, except with music.

Certainly I trust parts of my body - my mouth, my diaphragm, my hands, and my brain. I trust my knees not to shake too much when I stand up to play or, more often now, to speak in public. But I've never had that total physical assurance my lover has. I think that's one reason why I so love to watch him.

I love the joy he brings to life, the humor, the enthusiasm, the assurance, the skill. I love that he shares those so willingly.

I'm happy when I'm with him -- a peaceful, centered happiness. He always creates a space where it feels safe for me to say anything, be anything. With my lover, I don't have to be afraid of being too much of anything, he's not threatened.

As I lie watching him, I think about mornings when his voice is the first thing I hear. I recall a particular morning when he called me three times before I was out of bed. It was snowing when he first called. I love the snow -- always have. It's a personal gift from God to me. He was on the run; I was taking a day off. The most complicated thing on my agenda was a facial in the afternoon. He said if it was snowing, it was a great day to just stay in bed. Good idea, and I took his suggestion. When he called a couple hours later, from a different city, I was still nestled in my big warm bed and he kidded me about that. And he said he loves me.

So I lie here now, watching my lover. I watch him drop the towel he's using to dry his hair and walk to the bed. Balanced with one knee on the bed, he leans over and touches me. "What is going on in that brain of yours", he asks. "You have the most amazing expression on your face, and I can see the wheels turning."

I tell him. I want him to lie with me, hold me, and just relax for awhile. He's been working so hard for so long. I want him to unwind, to celebrate the time off. I want to just touch him gently, hold him, take care of him as he's been taking care of others. I want to give him a safe place, with no demands, no expectations -- just acceptance and appreciation for all that he gives.

He drops the towel and slips in beside me. We face each other, touching, looking, learning all over how to be with each other. That's the magic we have, you know. To always bring the "first time" enthusiasm and excitement. To never take each other for granted, even after we know each other so well.

Gradually, I feel his muscles begin to relax, I see his eyes soften. He pulls me close, buries his face in my hair. His breathing slows and deepens. My lover sleeps. And I hold him.

As he begins to wake awhile later, a very nice pressure starts building against my thigh . mmmmm. He's told me how much he wants this. I had begun to worry that he would always awaken before I, but not this time. I slip carefully from his arms and move down on the big bed.

He's still in that dream-like state when I take him gently into my mouth. Feeling his soft/hard strength. I wonder what he's dreaming now, as I tease him with my tongue and suck in slow, gentle pulses. Feeling him stiffen so quickly. Sensing as he becomes more fully awake and aware that, this time, it isn't a dream. This is real. This is his lover's warm mouth, her tongue, her hands. Waking him. Waking him to a time and place where all that matters is giving and receiving pleasure. I release him just long enough to smile and whisper "hello, my love, did you have a nice nap?"

"Nice nap, nice dream, but this is much nicer."

Nicer for me, too, to have him here. To feel my body responding to his growing urgency. To feel his hands, his fingers, his mouth. Doing their magic, as mine perform theirs. I just knew I would adore Savannah.

"Come on, darling, get dressed. Put on something sexy. Let's go find that bar that's in your book."

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