Music and more

He said she said he replied she countered he thrusts she parries he suggests she counters
 "Thanks for meeting me here, I wasn't sure if you would..."
"Well, you asked, so you must've felt somewhat confident that I would come..."
"I hope that you do..."
"Do you always have to go there?"
"If I do not ask, there is 100% chance that you won't meet me here..."
"Agreed. You are so logical sometimes."
"Why did you meet me here, it seems as if there are a thousand other things you'd rather be doing..."
"Thousands and thousands..."
"You always say that - why is that?"

"I am old - it's a Saturday Night Live skit from the 70's - it was one of their definitions for multiple orgasms."
"That so fits, on so many levels..."
"Oh come now, can't a body have some fun..."
"You always say that, too - 'oh come now'..." 
"Is it ever the wrong time?"
Anticipating an eye roll and a look off into the distance, I propose a musical interlude that shall include close quarter dancing... I have just the song - it is an oldie...

"There now, I think that did us both a bit of good... you have no idea how good it felt to hold you, and you smell delicious."
"Thank you - I love dancing, and that was a lovely song. You know I am sucker for music."
"Dancing is almost always appropriate, and useful, and enjoyable... thank you for saying yes."
"I said yes?"
"We danced, did we not?"
"Oh yes, I thought we were talking about something else..."
"We're always talking about something else..."
"You know, your eyes are so expressive... a few minutes ago, they were somewhat distant, now, they are warm, almost smiling..."
"It's the dancing - I got lost in that song..."
"Slow dancing does that for you?"
"I love dancing, different dancing does different things..."
"Slow dancing is one of my favorite forms of foreplay... it's like stretching before an athletic event..."
"Oh so that was foreplay?"
"Might have been... might have been slow dancing for its own sake..."
An ice cube in your mouth, displayed for my benefit... tongue working around it, it begins to melt, and you have no regard for the destination of the drippage...
"I loved how you held onto me, out there, I felt so alive, needed, wanted... as if nothing else mattered in the rest of the universe..."
"I love how you move, and how you melted into me, it was very erotic."
You reach out to take my hand, and you circle my forefinger with your hand, and your fingers of your other hand dance on my wrist and forearm...
"Would it be too forward of me to say that I am wet right now?"
"Nothing is too forward for me..."
"Will we be leaving soon?"
"We can. I might like to dance some more... you know, foreplay is all about the journey... I want to enjoy it..."
"I want you to enjoy my tongue, and all its talents and treasures..."
"We don't have to wait for that... there are many forms of expressions for that very useful of organs..."
I took in a deep breath, all the way down... let the peace spread through me, unconsciously, or reflexively, I licked my lips, and ran my tongue over my teeth, revealing that my mouth was dry, but waiting, anticipating... the talking was fun, but taking a toll...
"I propose another dance... another oldie... so be it... shall we?"
"Ah, yes, please... the long version, I hope..."
"The only version, as it should be..."

"Thank you... wow, thank you. That was more than a dance... that song has always been so special to me..."
"Mmmmmm - you have no idea... what a song. Can we go now? I mean can we?"
"Such urgency." A knowing smile, as the head went lower, the smile spread... "Is everything ok?"
"Um, more than ok... just would've been helpful had I worn panties, yanno... I am so turned on. Just sayin'..." The lower lip was bitten, the eyebrows came up, the eyes just a little downcast. "How long you going to keep me waiting?"
"Don't think of it as waiting, think of it as something to be enjoyed for its own sake... If it is foreplay, then the destination will take care of itself..."
"Does everything need to be analyzed and cerebral?"
"No, but just trying to enjoy every moment, each unto itself..."
"I want to lower myself, unto yourself, and have at it... understood?"
"Understood. Will you be able to hold out for one more dance?"
"If you can hold me up... I am so close... holding my legs together and squeezing, it's as if the very air we breathe is a stimulant..."
"Got it... just one more song, I promise... then it shall be as you wish..."
"I mean it, I am a quivering mass here... please..."
"Thank you... one more song - can you indulge me that?"
A weak smile, with a hint of determination... "Yes, it's not like I am dying, I don't know, I just want you, is that so bad?"
"Nothing like being wanted... nothing... Shall we dance?"
"Yes, please..." The touch was electric. The hands went quickly from draped about my neck, to urgently holding my butt... there was scarcely room for any of creation's smallest particles betwixt us... she took one leg and place it right outside of mine, with full contact, as if opening herself to me. "You could have me right here, right now..."
Her voice trailed away... the song was just now beginning, but we had warmed up for it, working up to it, oblivious to anyone else, and our surroundings... we had our own music and rhythm...

"Oh... my... God..."
"What?" And the question was immediately answered... as her grip upon tightened, fingers clenching, breath out of control, I held her tight, as she dug her chin into my shoulder, and her hips rattled jackhammer like against mine... I just held her, held on, held tight. Music, movement, nothing else mattered. Beauty, this moment, timelessness, urgency, and nothing, absolutely nothing else... her breath on my neck, on my ear, her arms trying to hold on, hold on, hold on...
And the music was no more...
"I think we are ready now..."
A raspy, disjointed voice whispers "Ya think?"
And the hand holding as we walked off the floor was as lovely, as warm and as intimate as the hours that followed.

The scent of a woman

And it goes like this... when I am most alone is when I feel her presence. A month ago I was in a play, and she helped with props and worked backstage. I knew that she was involved, but being in the play did not align circumstances for our paths to cross until two weeks before the show. I remember it distinctly. I was walking down the hall of the high school in which we held our performances, heading for a stage door to go onstage. I did not see her, but I caught her scent - that diabolical, lovely, intoxicating bouquet that is her, no one else, nothing else...


In that one flash, that one instance, that splinter of a second, it all rolled over me like a tank. I think I physically responded in a number of ways. A sharp intake of breath, my entire body quivered, starting at the shoulders, and my knees even buckled just a tad. I was over it in a second, though my heart dove and wobbled and bonged the rest of the day. It was her. All this while I thought that I was immune, over it, over her. We never talked anymore, almost never saw one another, and on those rare occasions, it was a hug, a hello, and moving on... The sum total of our interactions of late were e-mail "how you doings" every couple of weeks.

Why this moment struck me is unclear. Maybe I just needed a reminder that I will always carry her with me... that for however much I know that I have grown and changed and moved on and moved forward and dealt with it and gotten over it and past it, it is abundantly clear that she is inside my head, coursing through my veins, bouncing around in my very being, lying dormant until a match is tossed in the kindling dried and fanned by that blasted longing. And then it raged. The sweaty palms, the watching for her, the looking for little excuses to be near her and talk to her...

Whilst the rehearsals went on, I was proficient and professional, doing my part and helping to tell the story. In down times at home, I would go for walks and run my monologue over and over and over, pausing, inflecting, getting it down cold. But the walks served other purposes, they allowed me time with her, to think of her unfettered by any other obligations. How I haven't held her for the longest time, but I could still feel her wrapped tight around me, getting me drunk on her, yes... the scent of that woman. Her head cocks slightly to one side, her mouth creeps into a tiny grin, and then - her whole face explodes in laughter. Sitting on the concrete steps of a mausoleum in a cemetery where we met one day - I hear her ask that question - "How did I ever find you, and what am I going to do with you..."

And the passage of time does nothing, absolutely nothing to diminish, tarnish or fade those images. After one of the performances, cast and crew went out for dinner and drinks. I sat and talked with her for awhile, and loved every second of it. It was one of those moments that was light hearted and fun, not oozing with reminiscing or wistfulness over what was, or is, or isn't. When she rose to leave, we embraced, and oh, oh that scent again. She held me tight, and I whispered "I love you." She whispered "I know."