Handwriting

As I drift slowly back from sleep to wakefulness, I become aware of my head resting against the sloping surface of a wooden drafting table. I can see the strange light outside of the open french doors from a kind of diffuse grayish-blue twilight sky infused with rain. The sound of the rain and its smell coming in with the light breeze slowly seeps into my consciousnes. I let it soak in for a few moments. Looking around with my eyes, head still resting on the table, I see that I am in a small sparely furnished room. There is a mostly empty bookshelf in the corner. A few feet from the desk is a couch facing the open french door. I can see the wet wooden railing on a balcony outside. I try to recall what is outside the room, to remember the view from the balcony, but my mind draws a blank.

Pushing back against the table with my hands, I find that I am sitting in a leather swivel office chair with rollers. I must have fallen asleep against the drafting table. I lean back against the chair to study the table. On the bottom left, there is an upright purple fountain pen in a quaint gold pen-holder with an engraved black base. A bottle of indigo ink stands beside the pen. On the top left are a sheaf of loosely bound papers and a brown leather journal. To the right of where my head was resting moments ago, there is a single sheet of thick off-white paper folded in half under an ornate jade paper weight. Hanging on the wall opposite the french doors there are a few detailed topgraphic maps mounted in solid brown frames. I stare at the maps for a while. Most of them are of beach-front properties. They look vaguely familiar.

I close my eyes and lean back further against the chair, trying to recall where I am and what I am doing here. Nothing comes to mind.

Eventually I give up and reach for the folded sheet of paper...

"I have long been gone, my love. It has long been over."

I stare at the page for a while. I cannot tell if it is my handwriting or yours.

Embrace

When I wake up next to you, it is still raining hard and loud.

The sky is now dark though, and in the thin light seeping in from the wrap around windows of the little one room house you had built for us I can see the heavy raindrops beating down all around us. I turn my head to look at you, your face a few inches from mine, as you lay on your side facing me. A flash of lightning illumimates your face and the room around us and you stir briefly at the sound of the accompanying thunder. I move closer to you, whispering softly so as to not wake you, "Did I tell you that you never leave my mind, my love." Reaching with my hand, I caress your face ever so lightly, brushing your dark hair back from your face, and then down your neck.

Lightning flashes again and in the pulsing light I see your face in my hands as you kneel in front of me and I make love to your throat. In the ensuing thunder, I lean forward to kiss your throat softly atoning for how rough I had been to it earlier. I slip the cover back down your naked body, eyes lingering on the curve of your collar bones and down the curve of your visible left breast. Lightning flashes again and in the flickering light I see you straddling my hip, your body moving up and down as you moan loudly and I reach with my mouth for your nipples. "Baby," I whisper softly as the thunder claps down around the house. I lean in to you and kiss your lips, pulling your body gently into mine, waking you up for my need.

When I wake up next to you, it is still raining hard and loud.

The sky is brighter now though, and through the wrap around windows I can see the heavy rain all around us. I turn my head to look at you, your face a few inches from mine. You are awake and looking at me. I smile into your eyes and move closer. You reach for my body and pull me closer to hold me against yours. I go back to a kind of warm slumber in your embrace.

I barely hear you when you ask in a low voice, "Am I more than an addiction?"

Inescapable

I turn to look at you. It is late evening and you are laying next to me in an adjacent beach chair. You are on your side facing me, and I hold your gaze, searching your eyes. When you look away with a barely audible sigh, I reach with my hand to caress your dark hair back gently from your face. In the diffuse evening light, your skin is luminescent. My eyes trace down your neck, lingering on your collarbones and then down to your breasts barely covered by the open translucent white silk shirt you are wearing. I feel the moist gentle pull as you turn your face slightly to take my index finger into your mouth. I watch the curve of your lips as you suck on my finger, your eyes locking onto mine with a desire at once familiar and inescapable. I reach out with my other hand and pull you on top of me.

The waves are now loud enough that I can no longer keep them out of mind. The moonlit churn of the waves washes up to just a few feet away from my feet. In the very far horizon out on the sea, I can make out the shape of what must be a large ship. The breeze has picked up a bit, though it is still very warm and comforting. I can hear some faint voices and laughter every so often but their owners must be quite distant. There are no clouds in the sky and in the half-moon the stars are bright and feel close. It is a beautiful night, but I cannot remember how I came to be there on that beach.

Would you?

I try and steady the row boat as you step into it and then taking your hand guide you to sit across from me on the passenger side. We had found the boat nestled in among the lotus leaves and tall gangly yellow flowers by the grassy edge of the small island with the temple. The turquoise water is brilliantly lit by the dying sun, and you are delighted by the koi fish that swim in the clear water around the boat. I can see the clumps of tall bamboo on the little island behind you swaying gently in the breeze. The butterflies we had disturbed in walking down to the boat flit about us. I smile into your eyes and pick up the oars to set us off into the water.

Our surroundings are so beautiful that we forget to talk for a while. I see a pink flowering cherry blossom tree growing out of a rocky arch abutting a waterfall and steer the boat towards it.

"If you could change the way I feel about our past, would you?," you ask.

I look at your face silently letting the boat glide past the waterfall. You look so beautiful, sitting there across from me, your dress gathered under your legs. I resist the primal urge to hold you in my arms.

"Did I tell you?," I think silently to myself, "That I have always loved you."

"Would you?," you ask again.