No candlelight; they are not into candles, roses, or flowers. They are into warm setting, cozy surroundings complimented by the natural heat of the body traction. They are together, she is staring and he pretends as if nothing has happened, he is playing it cool, but in fact, she is the cool one. Her eyes are so comforting that he cannot look at them. They are so confident that he melts from just passing by her sight. She is a dangerous creature; she can contain him in a second. He thinks that he controls the action but she in fact is the predator and he is the prey, she never makes him feel it, he thinks that he scored, but he did not, he made love. Lingerie is no longer anywhere to be found, they are something from the past, no one thinks of them any more, and no one wants to leave the setting to search for them; maybe they vanished, in their minds at that moment. He must leave the location, temporarily, for a cigarette, the idiot, how could he leave such a treasure for just a cigarette. No drinks around, just two small bottles of mineral water. It was not a battle but a symphony, she calmed him down, no rush she said, he looked baffled after these words, as if she had caught him in the act. Maybe he did not expect her to be so direct or so in control. Basically he is there managing something, but she is the conductor. He was the instrument, but she was the gatekeeper, the bed of roses and a gate it was, well done, well trimmed and so smooth that a mountain of butter could melt on it, and well positioned as every part of her landscape. Everything was well put and prepared, it is not a beauty per say, but everything was just right. It was not a job that they had to finish, it was not a mission that they had to accomplish, and it was not a process that they had to complete. It was a discovery, an exploration; every location needed to be touched on, and every hill and river needed to be climbed and crossed, but the sailing and the climbing were simultaneously, natural and not constructed. The river is hugging the sailor and both are indulged. In the shower, the water was dancing and singing, and all they did was to move to its tunes, and to comply with its rhythms. Nothing more, just the water under that little shower telling a story that never ends.
* For entertainment purposes only.
