A Letter to Dani Ch. 01

Do you remember the lake in Minorca, that lagoon on the coast north of Mahon? ...Es Grau I think it was named, where we had been promised we would see the sea-eagles. We walked up that gravel track in blazing sunshine and although it was really steep, it was an idyllic little journey. We were stopping every five minutes to take a photograph.

There were those little tan and olive lizards, wild tortoises, little groups of army ants taking flower seeds back into their burrows and hundreds of dragonflies and damselflies. We got some amazing pictures. It was so very hot travelling up there, you were wearing that frock I like so much, it's a bit like a 1940s day frock with blue flowers all over it. Those big yellow butterflies liked it too, they kept landing on you.

We climbed and climbed, thinking we would never get there. Wasn't it a sanctuary of some kind? I remember we went into a sort of tourist information centre and bought a route-map and you were intrigued with the little lizard that appeared behind the postcards. I think you jumped about 2 feet in the air when you seen it. We tested our meagre Spanish to destruction and you pinched my bum at the counter.

We were ostensibly looking for sea-birds and hopefully the eagles - there are a handful of huge posts sticking out of the water, which the eagles apparently perch on waiting for lunch to pass. We both had our field glasses, for the first time we remembered to bring them and as we walked down to the shore, we stopped to scan the lagoon... all those little holly-blue butterflies followed us. You told me they were Minorcan fairies

The water was sublime, we sat trailing our feet, my jeans were rolled up to the knee and my T shirt was drenched. You looked absolutely beautiful. I remember slipping down into the water and you just watched me, smiling, wondering exactly when I would fall in. I had only gone into the water for one reason...to look at you as i waded back. I could feel the slippery gravel threatening to topple me, but remained nobly and wobbly upright, arms akimbo.

The sun was burning the back of my head, you were sitting on your hands with your hair drifting up and down in the tiny zephyrs . Triumphantly i reached you and rested on your lap, my jeans now soaking and my T shirt a write-off. I would end up driving round the countryside like a hobo and if the Polizia pulled us over, I would be arrested for vagrancy and molested in a Spanish jail.

I gazed into those eyes...and gazed and gazed and gazed some more.

You said " would you like a glass of wine, sweetpea? "

I watched as you poured the wine, watched as you turned and cocked your modest legs back into the water. You pressed the glass to my lips and I felt the chilly sting on my mouth. Offering the glass to you, I watched as you sipped and rolled your tongue around the perimeter of your lips. I snatched for you and grasped your mouth in mine, we paused and pulled apart. My eyes transfixed at your breasts moving up and down inside your dress. Our faces moved closer, your tonguetip slid into my mouth, darting like a tiny fish. I grasped it firmly in my mouth and felt it swell as it flickered.

My heart was racing...we rolled together in perfect harmony, soft plump lips lolling wetly together, edged in wine ...yours so pliant and sensual. I felt my body pull towards you, your fingers tracing a line down my spine. The kiss prevailed, our mouths grew tighter. I slowly inhaled to draw at your breath. Your kisses becoming more urgent, more passionate ; my hands reached out to hold you, fingers dancing along your neck.

Heads rolling, we both slid into the water. My hands caught on your hem and slowly moved up your thighs as we descended. Mouths locked together, we sipped each others spirit in anticipation. We felt the gravel between our toes. Silty sand, warm and moulding oozed between them, adding to the moment. The water was tepid, soothing and womb-like. Your hands reach for my waistband and pulled my top free...it hung limply in the water as your fingers encircled my waist.

I studied the reflection of the lagoon in your eyes, just making out the horizon and the cyan sky, the lagoon a dizzy haze of emerald green. My hands lay on your thighs and I could feel the silky skin slipping so slowly up and down as the undercurrent bobbed against the shore. The water hid the shadow of your darkening dress; the flowers mirrored in the surface skin, my thoughts watch colour born.

Cobalt hue turned purple blue in turquoise demi-light.
Pristine white turned faded gold, then silver-blue and gone from sight.

I had never felt so in love. I had a butterfly in my hands - a beautiful flowing papillon.

You sparkled before me, sun-kissed skin and Van Dyke hair; your teasing, excited eyes glistened and flared. Arms glowing in the heat...your face shadowed in mine. I felt a deep and vibrant tumescence in your belly.

Encircling hands traced an ochre path along my spine then curled forward to press the palms against my chest. Your head sank forward, resting upon your hands as you drew the sodden garment from me. Mouth over my heart you began to kiss. Tiny pecking kisses roamed my chest and beneath my arms. Our hips moved forward .....as though free from shackle...slotting like clockwork, gently together...flirt above the waist competing with primaeval flirt below.

Hands edge slowly north along your thighs..ever pulling you into me...you fell against the bank , resting your back against sweet smelling grass; your belly stroked by unseen limb and growing heat, pushed into mine. Kisses swirl in wet abandon, tongues and cheeks, neck and breast mercilessly lapped , cantering hearts pumping ever faster. Your fingers fell to my belt ...barely fitting the gap ...breath drawn in to ease your passage as they slid inside. I lifted free the skirt of your dress ...the only thing between us now a sliver of satin. Curled around your derriere in one salacious flourish. I wallowed in the moment....

fingers wrapped around their goal,
mouth sucks air from mine,
cork-like nipples peak your frock,
long forgotten spine.
Fingers steal inside your hem,
sweet mound of venus yields,
oily trickle marks the route,
through long forgotten fields.

As evening glow bathes our flesh ,
anticipation peaks,
all our skills called to task,
what puts her in a tizz.

what makes his passion swell
the party in the lake is about to begin
2 players only in this theatre of dreams
dark shape of sea-eagle glides the rosy glow of sunset sky.....