romance

Nothing is ever quite what it seems. Someone once said that all of life is
an illusion. Reality is what you perceive. If so, then my perception of the
world is colored by my perception of you.
The first time I saw you, my breath caught in my throat. Your face was
unremarkable, but your body, your hands...Ahhh, those hands. Your eyes,
sparkling, dancing, sunlight on the water, blue skies on spring days. I fell
in love with bits of you. Or perhaps, then, I fell in lust with you. It took
time. Friendly, casual chats, giving way to longer, more intimate
conversations.
Then, the night. Dinner. A long, lovely dinner, during which we shared a
bottle of wine. Was it the wine, or the stars, or just that you were far
from home and I was there? No matter. Once your mouth and mine met, the end
was inevitable.
The hotel room. Sneaking in like two kids on a date. The trembling caresses
as we undressed. The first touch of bare flesh, as we both gasped like
swimmers entering a cold lake. The warmth of you on me, in me, around me.
The long, slow dance of merging, separating, merging again. Twining together
like ribbons, soft skin flowing like satin beneath my hands. The slow build
of sensation, untill we could no longer bear it, and pounded, galoped to the
brink, hanging there for one long moment before plunging, screaming down the
slope into the sunlit world ecstasy.
The first of many times.
And yet....there you are, here I am, lovers, in love, loving, and by our
loving, betraying, killing.
Things are not what they seem. You are married, and I am the thief, who
steals you away bit by bit, with a certain smile, a certain phrase.