___________________________________________________________________
Whispered softly, so softly, “Mitchie, honey, turn around.”
“Turn around?”
“Yeah, baby, I want to spoon.”
Knowing what she meant, “You want to be spoon one or spoon two?”
“Spoon two,” she answered seriously.
Turning, arcing my hips...
Immediately feeling the warmth of her conforming body.
Quiet...
Quiet...
“Laying closely to me...
Feeling the close warmth of her conforming body...
Cyber Affair 10
Day One - 7: Friday, June 18, 2009
First Night Two
“I crawled into an untidy bed,”
Hearing her words...
“curled my bare body to his
and lay still”
Feeling Barbara's warm breath on my back...
“until his breath was
at my back,
a soft tongue cooling
the sunburned skin
on my neck,”
Her breath soft upon the back of my neck. Her words softer.
“my round bottom pushing
closer and closer into the curve
of his body.”
Her arm across my hip, feeling her moving closer, warmer into me.
“Spread fingers walked
the length of me,
chilled skin rising in ovation.”
My hand now holding her hand, my eyes closed to the soft words...
“His warm hand skimmed
over the curve of my hip
to a waiting well–his fingers
tickled the surface and dipped
long into the warm waters
and he spoke close to my ear
words he had never spoken,
indescribable things
said only between lovers,
and turned my body to his.”
Though written before she knew me, the words now were for me, only me. Turning, my face but inches from her face, feeling Barbara's soft, warm breath.
“Shhh, not a word,” he said,
and took a cool sip
then plunged
the depths of the well
until-
all thirst was quenched.”
My face now against her face, her cheek now touching my cheek... our tears mixed.
****
Sleep throughout the night was... actually lovely.
We lay, somehow touching one-another throughout the night as though if not touching, the dream of being in bed together, sleeping together would vanish and Barbara would be in bed with her husband and me, alone.
At times it might be no more then her toes on my calf, or my hand on her shoulder, and at times she would cuddle against my backside, or me her’s and yet, as though by the merest of touch we were reassuring each other that we were here, together, the touch was, at least for me, so subliminal that, although aware of being touched, and touching, I did not awake.
To be continued
©March 4, 2012 / Mark M. Lichterman
Poetry with permission of
Elizabeth J. Russo
