~from the archives
of Susan K. Rowse~

Do you recall the first time I read to you?

It was a Sunday evening.

One of those easy days when no pressures were allowed as we sat upon the carpet next to a fire.

It was chilly outside.

As the draft crept in and we snuggled closer and allowed our senses to expand.

Your head found it's own pillow there upon my lap.

You closed your eyes as I found a chapter from Anias Nin to be perfect company for our spirit that afternoon.

Each word was a sip of passion.

Every syllable a kiss that dripped from lips to lips.

My fingers found each follicle there upon your head and caressed it
gently .

Your mouth stopped to caress the freckles upon my nose... cheeks and neck.

You kissed me then as though I were a porcelain doll.

You were the most gentle man.

The read that afternoon progressed into whispers and finally we gave in to the evening shadows...gave in to our love.

The sighs and moans were followed by our energetic bursts of love as we
ended the evening with soft.....

Pillowtalk.

By~Susan K. Rowse



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