What We Both Desire

Another night stuck in this cold apartment, dark and ever lonely. There must be more to life than this – sitting in a chair watching the dance of shadows on the wall while the woman I love is out with yet another man. She doesn't know I love her, at least, I've never told her, but what chance do I have?

I have known her for a while now, and she knows me. We are, what could be called, friends. Time passes and we have had our moments, moments that could have become more, but never did. A touch here, a smile there, always with meaning behind each gesture, but neither of us was willing to make a move. She has always had other men in her life, so why would she need me? I only wish she knew how much I needed her.

I'll see her tomorrow, she'll talk about her evening, and I will mention nothing of the night I spent pretending the shadows on the wall were us. She'll smile, laugh, her emerald eyes will dance, and I will fall in love with her all over again. But it's all in vain.

I tell myself to stop thinking about it and just let her go. This is my place, this is my fate, this is where I am. I will love her and she will always be somewhere else with someone else. I dream of what could be, but whatever was, whatever will be, is but a shadow...but does not a shadow have substance? It outlines reality, after all, and time is real.

We are defined by time. The past determines who we are in the present and the future is merely a dream of what we will become. We exist now. Dreaming is for the dreamers, the foolhardy, and the hopeless romantics. We exist now, we must live for now, and to hell with what could be. But, what if? Sometimes I wonder what we would be like together.

I can imagine standing in the tall grass, hands in each other's back pockets, watching the falls continue their perpetual roar, full of power and energy. We take this moment, like all the others we have had, as fleeting and worth remembering always. We kiss. The kind of kiss lovers kiss: commanding and everlasting, like the tumbling water ahead of us. I imagine these things and more, always with an embittered back turned to reality.

I stand up and begin to pace the room. This is no good. These thoughts revolve around a whirlpool in my head as I watch figures out the window walk arm-in-arm down the street. They are headed to a bar, the movies, perhaps to stroll along the boardwalk in the moonlight. I don't need this. What I need is to get out of this damned apartment before I'm liable to do something rash. I can already feel the anger welling up, demanding to be released. I'm not sure what I'm angry at, exactly. The world? Myself? My Creator? Her? I don't know. All I know is I need to leave.

With renewed vigor I turn from the window only to make an angered hunt for my car keys. Damn it all to Hell. I don't need to be driving anyway. I grab my wallet and my jacket and head for the door. When I fling it open, my entire body seizes up. In slow motion my hand goes limp, dropping the jacket, and my mouth sputters incoherently.

There she is. It's impossible, but she is standing in the doorway, looking gorgeous as always, and not a little surprised. How long had she been standing there? Her eyes drop, focusing on nothing in particular, and she says, "I...I don't know why I'm..." and trails off. She raises her eyes and says quietly, "Could I come in?" Still in a daze I nod and step aside. As the door shuts behind her, I turn around and study her face. Her dark blonde hair is let down past her shoulders and her eyes, those magnificent and mysterious sea-green eyes, are beautiful beyond compare. I take in all that is her: the seductive contour of her lips, that pert little nose of hers, those sexy ears that redden more than anything else when she's embarrassed. My eyes travel the length of her body, across her breasts, along her hips, down to her ankles and back up again. She stands in the middle of the living room, neither of us saying a word and though I cannot explain why, I now know why she's here.

It's wrong, we both know it. But that doesn't stop her, and it certainly doesn't stop me. We stand slightly apart, willing the other to move first. When I look into her eyes I can see nothing but aching loneliness. It doesn't have to be this way. She deserves better. As I let my gaze fall upon her, she smiles and my mind finds a soft melody, "The smile on your face lets me know that you need me...you say it best, when you say nothing at all."

I slowly slip my arm around her waist and pull her close. Another hand starts toward her face to lightly brush her cheek with only a finger. We lean in, together, and our lips press gently at first, then stronger as the feeling intensifies. I let my hand travel up her spine and her body presses in tighter. We hold fast, neither wanting to lose this moment. She pulls back and with closed eyes and whispered breath, she puts her lips to my ear, "Now." We sink to the floor and the world outside disappears. Now the night is about we two and what we both desire to share. All we have is now, and there will never be another.

She grabs at my shirt, pulling it up and kissing my stomach. As she pulls it completely off, she pushes me onto my back and sits straddle of me and, smiling seductively, pulls off her own shirt. I'm massaging her legs, up and down her thighs when she leans forward, making a motion to kiss me, but slips past my lips and nibbles on my ear instead. I jerk involuntarily and she whispers in my ear, "I want you. More than anything tonight, I want you; I want to feel you inside me." She pulls back, our eyes lock, and this time I can see something other than loneliness; I see hope. I sit up, kiss her neck, and gently roll her onto her back.

As I slide off her jeans, I slowly kiss the inside of her thigh, running my lips from the edge of her panties, down to her toes. She shivers. I switch and move up the other leg, this time sliding my hands on the outside of her legs until I'm slowly caressing her butt. I kiss her stomach, moving higher and higher, I kiss her breasts, run my tongue around her nipples, higher and higher, up her neck, and finally to her waiting lips.

She throws her arms around my neck, but I carefully reach up, entwine her fingers with mine, and push her hands back to the floor behind her head, where I hold them fast.

Her breathing is heavy and ragged and her body is writhing on the floor beneath me. She pants, "I...I can't take it anymore. Please..." and with one final, powerful kiss, I enter inside her. She moans instantly, her body already tensed and quivering.

We have the night, and there is no rush. I start slow and simple, with measured, rhythmic thrusts. She moves her knees up and then wraps her legs around the small of my back. Her eyes are closed, her head is thrown back, and every thrust elicits a light moan.

As I increase my pace, she bites her lip, then squeezes her legs tighter, pushing me farther inside her. Her hands grasp for something to hold, landing on my shoulders where her nails dig into my back. The harder she digs, the harder and deeper my hips penetrate her, which makes her dig in even more. Now, her moan gets louder, becoming almost a scream, her voice echoing off the walls. Her body convulses spasmodically, she clasps her arms together and yanks my head down to press her lips hard to mine. But I am not yet done.

I pull myself up onto my knees, then to my feet, cradling her in my arms all the while. I carry her over to the edge of the bed, lay her down, and then flip her over onto her hands and knees. She's still panting hard, but eagerly willing. I brace my feet, grab hold of her hips, and penetrate her again. This time, there is no warm up, no measured steps; we have found our rhythm and it is more powerful than I ever imagined.

This time, she entwines the sheets around her hands and through her fingers, seeking something tangible to brace against. I slap her butt which causes her to yelp as her body spasms again and again. She's coming faster now and I can feel the heat rising from deep within my own body. It's only now that I realize I'm making just as much noise as she is and that incomprehensible sound is helping her to come over and over. Suddenly my body seizes up, I squeeze her hips hard, and come with her, both of us yelling until the walls seemed about to collapse.

I pull out of her, and lean forward to give her another kiss. As soon as our lips touch, we both collapse onto the bed, panting hard. I pull back her sweat streaked hair to see her smiling radiantly at me. For a moment, I consider telling her how much her being here means to me, but I know she can see it in my eyes and feel it in the way I lightly caress her face. Instead, I say, "I need some water. You?" She just laughs and gives me a kiss, so I get up and go to the kitchen.

When I return to the bedroom no more than a minute later and she's lying on the bed, caressing her breasts and masturbating slowly. She looks over at me with lustful eyes and I realize I'm hard again, already. She closes her eyes, licks her mischievous lips, and says, "I only came eight times. You'll have to do better than that."

I walk over and run my hands down the length of her thighs again, "Tonight, we can do anything."

The dawn breaks and I lie next to her watching the arc of light spread across the room. There are shadows there, and though they dance still, they are lighter and less rigid than before. If ever I loved a woman, there she is sleeping next to me, an angel in her own right. When she wakes, the moment will change, but right now, the world is perfect. I have dreamt about her before, and surely I will dream tomorrow, but right now I can hold her close, listen to her measured breath, and remember her always.