“was our last meeting the beach you were referring to in your recent tumblr post?” he wrote
“no. it was the time before that. in a place we were both anonymous.” I replied
“there are other beaches” he merely taps out
my heart fills and my eyes brim at the light those four words represent. the beacon in the safe harbor.
the medication that i’ve been prescribed between chemo treatments usually leaves me with nausea (though much less than if i didn’t take it) but last night it seemed to bring about dreams that were fueled by memories of me and him. together. in one of those rare moments we’ve had over the course of the last two years.
that first kiss when i realized without a doubt i had not only crossed the line i swore i would never cross, i had pole vaulted over it. or the way the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my nipples went erect when he walked into the conference and i hadn’t even laid eyes on him yet.
or the delicious way his blush reached all the way up to his cerulean blue eyes and my panties went wet. or the raspberries he brought unexpectedly when i was alone in nyc and he found the time to cross the bridge to welcome me to his side of the continent. or meeting at my favorite bistro on the one day our travel schedules aligned whilst we were in france. enjoying a meal before strolling along the city. and the moment at the chalet his past fall, when i had orgasm after orgasm after orgasm and he held me as my body lay spent, trembling from pleasure i had only ever read about in erotic novels.
the way my flesh in his hands responds of their own accord and the way he renders me speechless with the simple flick of his tongue on so many parts of my body. his skin against mine and his weight upon me. the salty taste of his skin or better yet, the taste of myself on his tongue as his mouth recaptures mine.
dreaming of him leaves me spent and aching for his taste, his touch, his scent, him.
i’m a proud, card carrying pluviophile. always have been. i don’t know if it’s a condition of growing up in the great pacific northwest or if it’s a combination of growing up here and having parents that didn’t restrict activities because of the rain. unless there was lightning strikes, my siblings and i were playing outside. riding bikes in the rain, football, soccer, running-yep all can be done in the rain. gardening, walking to the store, etc. on the flip side, rainy days also equate snuggly blankets, reading for hours on end, taking a nap. And as I got older, I’ve always found rain to be soothing, romantic and reviving as well as the perfect company for those moments when all i want to do is cry.
the romantic in me has always stopped at the sight of love in the rain. a pair holding hands and sharing an umbrella, children laughing and splashing in puddles with abandon, a couple sharing a kiss.
when we last met, each of us flying to a city where we are both anonymous in our every day lives, the weather was unusually warm and dry for the time of year. knowing my penchant for the rain, he surprised me while we were sharing a bath and turned on the shower as well and then he kissed me. and kept kissing me. kissing in the rain.