When You Say Nothing at All

I wasn't usually into spiritual, new-agey stuff, but the Camino Silent Retreat had been paid for by my mother as a Christmas gift. I got the hint: Yes, Yazmin, we're all very proud of your promotion, but if you don't chill out, you'll drive all of us insane with you. Plus, she'd picked out a retreat that seemed custom-tailored to me and where I was at in life. Queer professionals over thirty, in the heart of the New Mexican desert, and nobody bothering me. No singing songs, no group therapy. Just me, a private yurt, and a luxury facility of quiet time activities for two days.

When I arrived Friday afternoon, I reluctantly handed my phone off to the woman at the check-in desk. She handed me an information packet including a map of the grounds with my room circled in blue. I flipped through everything -- natural hot springs, indoor spa, zen garden -- but decided it would be better to explore things for myself than to read it, especially since I very literally had nothing better to do now.

As I followed the path indicated on the map, the crunch of reddish gravel underfoot was the only sound breaking the desert's serene silence. The sun bathed the landscape in warm hues, casting long shadows that danced in harmony with the gentle breeze. With each step, I could feel the tension that had been building up in my shoulders and chest begin to release. Maybe Mom was right about this. Getting away could help.

The private yurt assigned to me stood nestled amidst a cluster of tall cacti and desert plants, providing a sense of seclusion without feeling isolated. Its rustic exterior belied the modern comforts that awaited inside. As I pushed open the door, I was greeted by a space that exuded tranquility. A plush bed occupied one corner, adorned with soft linens in earthy tones. The large window opposite the bed framed a panoramic view of the desert landscape, and a small writing desk sat beside it, inviting introspection.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the world lifting. It was strange, being disconnected from the constant digital buzz that had become an integral part of my life. I had grown accustomed to the constant notifications, the demands of work, and the relentless pursuit of success. But here, surrounded by the vast expanse of the New Mexican desert, all of those concerns seemed distant and unimportant.

After settling in, I decided to venture out and explore the grounds. The natural hot springs beckoned to me, their steam rising like whispers from the earth. I followed the meandering path that led to the spring. The warmth of the desert sun lingered on my skin. As I approached the pools, a gentle mist rose from the water's surface, blending with the dry desert air. The earthy scent of minerals and the soothing sound of bubbling water coaxed me toward the water.

Cautiously, I dipped my toe into the nearest pool, testing the temperature. The water was luxuriously warm, a tender embrace from a new lover. Taking a deep breath, I slowly descended the stone steps, feeling the heat envelop my body with each step I took. Goosebumps of pleasure ran along my skin as the water gradually reached my waist, then my full chest.

With a final step, I surrendered to the water's buoyancy, feeling myself gently sink into its depths. The sensation was sublime -- a weightless embrace that cradled me as if I were being held by invisible hands. I let out a contented sigh, closing my eyes and allowing the tension to seep out of my muscles.

As I let my body relax, I became aware of soft movement nearby. Opening my eyes, I saw another woman -- skin dark as the earth around us -- gracefully entering the pool. She, like me, was plus-sized, but we carried our weight differently. She was strong and sturdy with thighs that could crush a watermelon, probably from the world of fitness, while I was all smooth slopes and supple borders. She had a wavy, highlighted brown pixie cut.

Her presence was unassuming, her movements unhurried. She had a serene aura, as if she had been drawn to this oasis for the same reasons I had. Her eyes met mine briefly, and a gentle smile formed on her lips. I returned the smile, feeling a connection in this shared moment of serenity. There was no need for words; the warm water and the quiet stillness spoke volumes. We existed in harmony, two women seeking solace in the embrace of nature's warmth. The woman settled into the water across from me, and we continued to exchange quiet, understanding glances.

A spark of curiosity lit up her eyes, and she gestured to the surroundings, inviting me to explore the hidden corners of the spring with her. I nodded in response, my heart racing in anticipation for reasons I couldn't quite place. Something about speaking without speaking felt intimate and new. Qe eased our way out of the main pool and padded along the stony edge to a shaded alcove where a small waterfall cascaded down into a shallow basin.

She sat on a smooth rock, patting the space beside her with an inviting smile. I settled down, feeling the cool mist from the waterfall gently kiss my skin. The light caught her features. I wondered what her voice sounded like. She reached out and traced the flowing water with her fingers, drawing intricate patterns on the surface. I watched her delicate movements, captivated by the way her fingers caressed the surface.

As the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the landscape, she shifted her gaze from the water to meet my eyes once again. There was an unspoken invitation in her expression, a silent question of whether I wanted to extend this fleeting encounter.

With a gentle nod, I mirrored her smile, and together we stood. We returned to the embrace of the hot spring, allowing the water to envelop us once more. In this unbroken silence, we inched closer, our bodies only millimeters apart. The atmosphere was thick with palpable energy. My eyes drifted to her breasts, hardly covered by a triangle bikini, and her gaze stayed on my lips. I questioned what was going on, why my cheeks flushed at this woman I didn't know, why I wanted her to kiss me when we hadn't even properly met.

Maybe it felt safe, her being a stranger in a strange place. The knowledge that nobody would ever have to know about our meeting and we wouldn't be able to find each other after. Or maybe it was the exact opposite. The danger and risk of pursuing someone without speaking. Regardless, I let our thighs touch underneath the water as stars began to emerge in the velvety desert sky.

The woman pointed up to the sky, drawing my attention to a few shooting stars. I grinned back at her. Letting myself be moved by something close to instinct, I reached out, allowing my fingers to graze the back of her outstretched hand. She turned her fingers over, intertwining them with mine and pulling both our hands back toward our bodies. The touch was as hot as the desert air and as bright as the stars. We stayed like that for a while, our fingers pruning together beneath the water, watching the constellations slowly move across the zenith of the sky. After a while, she smiled softly and kissed my cheek before standing up so we could return to our respective tents. Her lips left behind a slight tingle that would keep me up for a few extra hours, fantasizing.

The following morning, I woke up to the gentle rays of the rising sun filtering through the window of my yurt. It was a new day, and I felt a renewed sense of clarity and purpose. I picked up my breakfast from the main hall, pleased to find fresh fruits and nuts and a local cinnamon pastry among the healthiness. Afterward, I brought my journal to the zen garden to get some thoughts down, something which was highly encouraged in all of the paperwork.

The soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds created a lovely morning backdrop, inviting me to let my thoughts flow onto the pages of my journal. As I began to write, I noticed movement at the periphery of my vision.

For some reason, my heart skipped a beat as I looked up and saw the same woman from the pool yesterday gracefully making her way toward the garden. A rush of warmth surged through me, a mixture of surprise and delight. It was as if the universe had conspired once more to bring us together. This retreat had hundreds of people spread out over acres of land, yet we found ourselves next to each other again.

I tried to focus on my journal, letting my pen move as I described the garden, the morning light, and the delicate balance of the desert's ecosystem. I worked to reflect on my life and why I was here, but I couldn't help feeling her presence nearby, even without looking up. It was as if a new kind of awareness had awakened within me, one that extended beyond the physical senses.

From the corner of my eye, I saw her settle onto the ground not far from me. She was just close enough that I could sense her energy, her quiet presence filling the space around us. As I wrote, I let my thoughts drift toward the woman beside me. I wondered about her journey, her experiences, and the moments that had led her to this retreat. I imagined the stories hidden beneath her calm exterior, the dreams and aspirations that mirrored my own in some way. I wondered if I'd ever know them.

When I finished another page, my gaze lifted to find her eyes on me -- her own expression curious and contemplative. Our eyes met, and a subtle smile tugged at the corners of her lips. I returned the smile, my heart fluttering like it had back in the days of exchanging notes during classes.

With the garden as our backdrop, we continued to write in our journals, each of us allowing the other to exist in their own space while also being aware of the unspoken connection between us. The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting gentle shadows across the landscape. The quiet intimacy of the moment deepened, and I could feel the chemistry building between us, a magnetic pull that went beyond words.

Eventually, the woman stood up, and I followed suit. As we both rose from our spots, we moved towards each other in a fluid motion, our steps mirroring the other's. She scribbled something in her journal and showed it to me.

Nell.

Her name.

I wrote mine and showed her.

We both closed our journals then, knowing that anything beyond our names would be breaking the heady mysticism of our silence. Then, with a single, graceful gesture, Nell extended her hand toward me. I hesitated for just a second before I placed my hand in hers. Our fingers intertwined once more, and a rush of electricity coursed through me at the touch.

Together, we walked through the zen garden, hand in hand, admiring the small desert flowers and careful landscaping. The garden was shaped like a mandala, so we walked its intricate course with care. I wondered what she was thinking while knowing that she was wondering the same about me.

The wind shifted, a subtle but noticeable change in temperature. The once calm breeze gained a lively edge, stirring the leaves and rustling the air. A few frigid raindrops suddenly broke the silence, landing on us with a refreshing but menacing touch, cool and welcome but promising a storm.

Nell glanced my way as raindrops landed on her cheekbones. There was a question in the curve of her lips and the subtle raise of her eyebrows. She bit her lip in a mixture of nerves and eagerness, her gaze briefly locking with mine before dancing away in a delightful dance of shyness. I could read the question in her expression loud and clear.

I grinned and gestured toward my yurt -- closer than hers -- as the rain picked up its pace. A collective energy sparked through the complex as everyone sought out shelter, save the few who must've felt that being soaking wet and cold was part of their silent journey.

As we moved together, the tension was palpable, an unspoken understanding of what the sudden change in weather was pushing us to. Our steps were accompanied by the rhythmic drumming of rain on gravel. The atmosphere buzzed and crackled as lightning struck the desert in the distance.

We caught our breath inside the canvas yurt, which had wooden bones that would hold up in a storm. As we sought refuge from the elements, the pitter-patter of raindrops on the yurt's canvas provided a new drummed backdrop. The interior was dimly lit by a lantern, casting warm shadows that danced on the fabric walls.

Our eyes met once more, and this time, I let my gaze rest on hers. There was a connection here that had gone beyond the realms of spoken language. With a soft smile, I brushed a strand of damp hair away from her face, my fingers lingering against her skin. In this intimate space, sheltered from the outside world, I felt the weight of unspoken emotions pressing against my chest. Surrendering to the forces that had drawn us together, I leaned in, closing the distance between us.

The warmth of her breath mingled with mine, and in that suspended moment, our lips met in a tender, cautious kiss. Her lips were soft and slightly cool from the rain, a stark contrast to the warmth that radiated from the coals at the center of the yurt, their smoke escaping out of a thick pipe into the rainy air. She tasted like the rain, too, and the cactus blossoms.

The kiss deepened, our bodies instinctively moving closer. The pressure of our lips against one another grew, a silent agreement that this was more than just a fleeting gesture. My hand found its way to her cheek, my thumb brushing against her skin as I cupped her face, guiding the kiss with a newfound sense of purpose. The sensations flooded me -- the subtle friction of our lips, the warmth that spread from the point of contact, and the electric current that pulsed through me, affirming that this connection was real, profound, and irrefutable.

Nell pulled back from the kiss, her hand instead finding the first button of my soaked shirt. We needed to take off the wet clothes, anyone, but the deliberate slowness of her fingers revealed her true intentions. Her eyes held mine in an intense gaze, as if she could see through the layers of fabric to the desires that lay beneath. The fabric clung to my skin until she had finished unbuttoning it. I let the shirt slip from my shoulders, exposing the curves and contours that were usually hidden from the world. I hadn't worn a bra today.

I felt her gaze on my chest as her breath shook. Her fingers traced down the center of my chest, not touching my breasts yet. Her hand shook a tiny bit, too, whispering the secret of her nerves to me. As I kicked off my shoes and peeled off my wet socks, I tried to steady my own breaths. She did the same, slipping off her sandals.

I stood back up and faced her. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes intense as they roamed over my form. There was an unspoken invitation in that gaze, an affirmation that we both wanted everything that might happen here in this silent space.

With a shared breath, we both reached for the waistbands of the other's pants. The tension in the room ratcheted up another notch as we finished undressing. My fingers fumbled slightly with the button of her shorts, heart pounding in my chest. I watched her, my breath hitching as she began to lower my shorts, too. I was thankful that I'd worn a nice thong today instead of the cotton B-team I'd also packed. I helped Nell shimmy out of her own pants, revealing more of her body to my hungry gaze. She'd worn a pair of cheeky, high-cut black underwear. Sporty and highlighting the strength of her hips and the firmness of her ass.

The air felt charged with electricity as our clothing gradually pooled around us, the wet fabric serving as a testament to the vulnerability we were willingly embracing. We carefully placed our clothes near the embers, which I stoked back to flame, to dry out.

Then we stood there in the firelight, completely bare before one another. The sound of the rain continued, a gentle symphony that underscored the intimacy of the scene. Both of our full figures played with the light, finding delicious shadows that didn't exist without rolls and cellulite. She was clean-shaven while I kept a neat bush.

I liked what I saw and I could tell she felt the same. Our eyes took one another's body in, making sure we had a full physical map burned into our brains before exploring further. We closed the physical gap between us, our naked bodies touching for the first time. The coolness of her skin against mine sent a jolt of electricity through me, a current that pulsed with the shared desires that had brought us to this point.

The firelight flickered and my heart wouldn't stop hammering. It had been a long time for me and I was nervous and insecure, but I couldn't communicate any of that to her. So I just trusted that she would be able to feel what I needed through touch and expression. Our lips met once again, this time with an urgency that couldn't be contained. The kiss was hungry, passionate, conveying without sound what we wanted from each other. Our tongues danced together.

Our hands wandered, fingers tracing intricate paths across bare flesh. Her touch was a revelation, sending shivers throughout me, as she eased me back onto the bed. I explored the curve of her hip, the arch of her back, and the delicate dip of her waist. Every contour seemed to tell a story, and my fingertips were eager readers, deciphering the language of longing etched upon her skin.

As I pressed my lips against her collarbone, she let out a soft gasp, a sound that resonated deep within me and echoed around the yurt. The first sound either of us had made together. Encouraged by her response, my mouth continued its exploration, tracing a trail of heated kisses along the slope of her breasts.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, holding me close as her body arched into my touch, a silent plea for more. I obliged, my lips finding their way to the sensitive curve of her earlobe, nibbling and sucking gently, each sensation drawing out a breathless moan from her. Her nails grazed my shoulder blades as I took one of her nipples into my mouth, sucking it softly at first, and then harder as I felt her body tense beneath mine.

Her fingers tangled in my hair as I ventured lower, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the valley between her breasts and the soft expanse of her stomach. I replaced my mouth on her nipple with my fingers, making sure they weren't neglected. With every inch I explored, I felt her body respond, her muscles tensing and relaxing in silent anticipation. I could tell how hard it was for her to keep quiet -- but, as much as I loved to hear the moans of a lover, her straining to avoid them was even sexier.

And then, with a shared breath, my lips found the place where her inner thigh met her hip, the skin there delicate and sensitive. I pressed soft kisses along this intimate curve, feeling the way her body quivered in response. Her fingers tightened in my hair, her touch a mixture of need and urgency. She guided me to her pussy, and I followed. All of her skin was a smooth, warm medium brown, but her pussy and nipples were dark as a perfect, almost purple night sky. Her cunt radiated heat unlike the rest of her chilled skin.

With the gentlest touch, I pressed my lips against her, a feather-light kiss that sent tremors through her body and a wave of pleasure through my own. Her hips arched in response, an unspoken plea for more. The taste of her was intoxicating, sweeter and more sour than most I'd tasted. Not a note of bitterness. Dessert. With each languid stroke of my tongue, I felt her body respond, her fingers gripping my hair to anchor herself. I didn't mind the touch of pain; it only made my body want more of her.

The sound of her soft moans and the rain's rhythmic patter outside created a melody that was uniquely our own. I moved from exploring her folds to savoring, having found the motion that caused her needy gasps. I held her clit's hood up ever so slightly with my left hand so that I could make direct, uninhibited contact with her most sensitive nerves. Then I pressed my tongue on and off her clit so softly yet so agonizingly. With her clit completely exposed, the intensity of even a tiny touch was enough to have her gasping and squirming.