My Parent's Reconciliation Vacation (excerpt from Proverbial Woman), Part XII

“Solutions to most problems that take place in a marriage aren’t always found outside the home. They are usually right where it all begins, inside our hearts. You can pick up on the source as well as the answers in the way we respond to one another. It’s just that we sometimes lose our focus amidst distractions. And when that happens, it is usually not until we mature in thought, and spirit, that we begin to reflect on the things that matters most. Not the approval of the world, nor the advice or respect of our families. Not even the opinions of our children. Just you and I…You see Rose, in the end the love we have for one another will be the one most important thing that matters in this marriage.”

Drawing near as she remained poised with her back to him. As the elevator gradually came to a stop, without delay he reached over and pressed the red button. Locking the doors in a paused position as they suddenly opened, he slowly moved in closer. 

Shadowing behind her in a towering stance, quietly she stood with her back to him. Slowly reaching in, he proceeded to gently graze the surface of her arms. First, tenderly running the tips of his fingers up and down her flushed skin, then gently caressing her shoulders. Taken by the surprising move, and the gentleness of his approach, in an uninhibited second of surrender she moaned breathlessly.

“Is it okay if I kiss your neck?” he whispered, in an affectionate tone.

“Do whatever you like…I’m at your mercy,” she murmured in a fainting voice.

“I knew you were going to say that,” he uttered as he softly kissed her.

“What do you mean by that…how did you know?” she asked.

“It is what you said in my dream.” He replied.

“That’s sweet,” she whispered. “What is going through your mind right now. What is the reason this sudden change?” She added. As she reached back and tenderly touched his face, gently grazing the surface of his cheek with her nails.

“My dear flower, where should I start,” he responded in a gentle tone, like a submissive lover eagerly replying to another’s unexpected demands.

“I don’t know. But hurry, the meter is running,” she humorously replied as she glanced over at the hold button. “Okay. Lets start with taste…how does it taste to you?” she asked in a persuasive tone.

Repeatedly kissing on her neck and shoulders. After a few lingering moments of intensity, in a surprisingly responsive gesture he noticed himself breathing rather heavily. Realizing his positive response to this long anticipated moment of intimacy between the two of them, she quickly stepped off the elevator as she pulled him behind her.

“Come…” she insisted, yanking out the hold button as they passed by the panel. “Lets finish this conversation on the way to the room.”

As they started down the corridor toward their suite, she suddenly withdrew to a slower pace as she turned and gazed up into his eyes asking, “And what was it you were just saying?”

“Hmmm…” he purred, gazing off as he began to speak. “I’m thinking of something distinct and sweet. Something that as a little boy I would have licked the container and my fingers long after its contents had been consumed. Do you understand what I’m saying?” he asked, as he longingly looked into her eyes.

“Yes. I believe I do. I believe I do…”she repeated in a mischievous tone.

“Now see, your mind has gone somewhere else,” he jokingly added, “But I’m going to go there with you. Now, back to what we were talking about. Where was I? Oh yeah, that’s right. Something little boys long for…something as sweet as a late-Sunday afternoon piece of dessert, with all the right toppings.”

“Mmmm…. Are you saying I’m delicious?” she teases.

“My lips are sealed for more reasons than you know,” he replied.

Peering off away from their immediate presence, then subtly glancing into his eyes as if to be communicating her thoughts before speaking, she then reached up and gently kissed him on his lips before slowly pulling away to say.

“The touch of those ‘sealed lips’ is as seducing as a late-August breeze. Engaging, though with a slightly brisk, subtle chill that delights the fine strands of hairs that grace the bareness of my skin.”

“Stop! You’re working this too well…” he humorously injected.

“I’m only talking about my arms,” she replied, “It’s not what you think.”

“I know exactly what you’re talking about,” he added.

Standing before one another, he gently reached over and pulled her into a passionate kiss.

Taken by surprise, she immediately wrapped her arms around him as she drew nearer. Completely wrapped in each other’s arms, after a few lingering moments they pulled back as they gazed into each other’s eyes.

“That was for the one time you walked out the door and I spent the rest of the night wishing I had kissed you before you left,” he whispered as he tenderly ran his fingers along her cheek.

“It never happened because it was never meant to be,” she answered.

“This holding, touching, and kissing,” he paused as leaned in and gently kissed her once more, “It reminds me of what we once had between us,” he added as he gently traced the contour of her face with the joints of his fingers.

“I feel the same,” she replied, still gazing into his eyes.

Beginning beneath the lobes of her ears, then slowly moving down the slanting contour of her cheeks. With bended fingers he gently lifted her head and tenderly drew her into him as they once again passionately kissed. Overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Suddenly feeling faint, she aimlessly reached in and clutched his waist in hope of maintaining her balance.

“Do that again?” she uttered in a blissful tone, as her eyes remained closed and her lips projected.

Slowly kissing her once more, but this time first tracing the contour lines of her lips with the tip of his fingers. Then down along her throat, and across her shoulders, and then back up her neck before wrapping around the lower part of her head with the palm of his hands.  

“God…your hands alone can satisfy me,” she breathlessly whispered as she stepped back, in effort of regaining her composure.

“Okay, now it is my turn. Tell me what it is you feel when I touch you the way I do?” he asked, as he drew closer to her.

“You’re too much,” she sighed, with a devilish grin.

“Seriously… tell me. What is it that you feel?” he insisted, gazing deeper into her eyes.

“Okay. Okay... if you must know.” she hesitated, as she considered his request. “The way you run your fingers over my face and down my neck. You touch me with love. Like I’m fragile. Like I’m something precious that you don’t want to break. It is out of that display of kindness and appreciation that send me beyond words.

The feeling is more like, if I were to die tomorrow, you could still recall what I felt like in your heart. I know you would have me in your memories, but the touching seems so spiritual. It resonates the love that you send to my soul.  And when I close my eyes, I mentally see the intimate moments as they unfold.

Sometimes it feels like an unrestrained rush.