Jamaica
I can't stop thinking about her. About that moment we shared. She infects my thoughts. There when I want her to be and there when I don't. As I relive the moment she touched my hand, as she whispered, "This would be the perfect time to kiss me." And the fear, the excitement, as I brought my lips to hers.
I know this is an obsession. I know this isn't healthy. But I compose message after message to her, debating how much to say, what to tell her. But everything I write sounds crazy. Sounds like I am putting too much meaning into one moment. Which I am. I know I am.
I don't love her, I'm not that crazy. But I love things about her. Her softness, her curves, her peace of mind, her strength of character. She goes after what she wants. She doesn't think twice about anything. But I can't say that to her, you don't say that to someone you barely know.
And I love our moment. The moment we shared. Our perfect little moment. The beauty of it. The way it made me feel. The way it made me feel about myself.
And I want
And I want
And I want her to touch me again. I want her lips on my mouth again. I want to feel her naked body wrapped around mine. I want her fingers to sneak through my defenses, finding me hidden. I want to gasp as she takes me. I want to explore every inch of her, lick her, drink her in. I want to possess her body as my own.
But I know. I know that isn't real. I know what I really want is something entirely different. What I want is that moment back. I want that space in time where I could do anything. Where I could be anyone. Where I could be me but not afraid. Where I could be free, powerful even. Where I could indulge. And she gave me that. That was her gift to me.
I only wanted to go night swimming. I had never done it before, and there I was only a hop, skip, and a jump from the most beautiful water I have ever seen. And the night was warm, so warm. But no one wanted to go with me. No one. Until her.
"Let's go," she says.
And we swim. Swim under the moon in the still water. Silent but for the slightest lapping of waves along the shore. Water that goes on forever. Civilization does not exist. Nothing exists except us.
Mesmerized by her smile, her laugh, how she shakes the water from her hair. I swim up to her. I swim to her and she looks into my eyes. She looks into my eyes, touches my hand and we kiss. Her tongue in my mouth. So long since I've wanted. Wanted this. Wanted more.
But that's where it ends. Kissing under the stars, in the quiet beauty of Jamaica, while our husbands quietly talk by the shore.
That's where it ends because that's all I needed. Maybe that's all she needed.
Someone to share a moment with, to share beauty with. Someone to help me, her feel beautiful and special and magical.
I will never forget that.
And later. Weeks later, that image of us still in my head. I wonder if she feels the same. And I realize what I really need to do is thank her. For what it meant. For what it gave me. So I send her a message, thanking her. Telling her that I could have kissed her forever. That in another life I would have told her how sexy she was and invited her back to my room.
She never responded. Although a few hours after I sent it, she updated her facebook status to say, "A pretty girl made me smile today."
And I'd like to think that pretty girl was me.
I know this is an obsession. I know this isn't healthy. But I compose message after message to her, debating how much to say, what to tell her. But everything I write sounds crazy. Sounds like I am putting too much meaning into one moment. Which I am. I know I am.
I don't love her, I'm not that crazy. But I love things about her. Her softness, her curves, her peace of mind, her strength of character. She goes after what she wants. She doesn't think twice about anything. But I can't say that to her, you don't say that to someone you barely know.
And I love our moment. The moment we shared. Our perfect little moment. The beauty of it. The way it made me feel. The way it made me feel about myself.
And I want
And I want
And I want her to touch me again. I want her lips on my mouth again. I want to feel her naked body wrapped around mine. I want her fingers to sneak through my defenses, finding me hidden. I want to gasp as she takes me. I want to explore every inch of her, lick her, drink her in. I want to possess her body as my own.
But I know. I know that isn't real. I know what I really want is something entirely different. What I want is that moment back. I want that space in time where I could do anything. Where I could be anyone. Where I could be me but not afraid. Where I could be free, powerful even. Where I could indulge. And she gave me that. That was her gift to me.
I only wanted to go night swimming. I had never done it before, and there I was only a hop, skip, and a jump from the most beautiful water I have ever seen. And the night was warm, so warm. But no one wanted to go with me. No one. Until her.
"Let's go," she says.
And we swim. Swim under the moon in the still water. Silent but for the slightest lapping of waves along the shore. Water that goes on forever. Civilization does not exist. Nothing exists except us.
Mesmerized by her smile, her laugh, how she shakes the water from her hair. I swim up to her. I swim to her and she looks into my eyes. She looks into my eyes, touches my hand and we kiss. Her tongue in my mouth. So long since I've wanted. Wanted this. Wanted more.
But that's where it ends. Kissing under the stars, in the quiet beauty of Jamaica, while our husbands quietly talk by the shore.
That's where it ends because that's all I needed. Maybe that's all she needed.
Someone to share a moment with, to share beauty with. Someone to help me, her feel beautiful and special and magical.
I will never forget that.
And later. Weeks later, that image of us still in my head. I wonder if she feels the same. And I realize what I really need to do is thank her. For what it meant. For what it gave me. So I send her a message, thanking her. Telling her that I could have kissed her forever. That in another life I would have told her how sexy she was and invited her back to my room.
She never responded. Although a few hours after I sent it, she updated her facebook status to say, "A pretty girl made me smile today."
And I'd like to think that pretty girl was me.