Silk for St. Valentine's

I wake soon after, find she has removed the shoes, kept the silk and is spooning against me, soft bottom against my now-soft sex.

I run my hand down her arm, over skin, over silk, then off her arm to her hip, lingering and giving a gentle squeeze.

"I love you," I whisper.

She fumbles for my arm, finds it, pulls it over her body in front of me, clasps it over one of her breasts. I squeeze that too, very softly.

"You, too." Her whisper is barely audible. "But you know what?"

"What?"

I can feel her smile, even in the dark.

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Finally, my special thanks to the one who has been a friend during such times.