Ali Torrelli is a Midwest girl at heart who lives between corn fields in rural Ohio. She's been writing song lyrics, poetry, and short stories since her teen years. She has just recently begun offering some of her efforts publicly. She's had a short story and a poem featured on About.com's Lesbian Erotica, and she's had a short story posted, "Indina Beuche", at Dyke's World. She plans to have her own Web site online in the very near future. It will allow access to much of her writing - both erotic variety and others.
"How?" she breathed. Her eyes were soft and warm as they joined her lips in forming the question.
"I don't know," I whispered back to her.
I meant it. I really didn't know. All I knew is didn't want to face it. I knew exactly what she was asking. My own heart was burning with the same question. How?
I looked down at her. She was snuggled against me. Our cozy nest was lined with disheveled sheets and blankets that were now speckled with cool wet reminders of our intimacy. We clung to each other and were awash with emotions that neither of us fully understood. For more than a year we had had to be content to clandestinely hear each other's voice, type messages, and look at pictures. Tonight all of that ended when she stepped off the plane. Now just one question hung between us. How?
I sat in the middle of the bed with my legs outstretched in a v-shape. I pulled her around to me and put her rump in my lap. She wrapped her lovely legs around my waist. Our nipples connected as we kissed and caressed in the afterglow of our frenzied lovemaking. Troubling subterranean thoughts now bubbled up like a spring within me. I tried in vain to ignore them but they remained and nagged at me. How can I live without her now? How can I survive without her fiery lips on my neck, without her calming wisdom and influence, without her contagious laugh, and especially without her uncanny knack for knowing exactly what drives me? How?
I eased her back onto the bed as I tried to temporarily chase the questions from my mind. She was now reclining and had a slight arch in her back that made her breasts stand out. This put them on glorious display for me. Her legs were still wrapped around me very nicely, so I leaned forward and supported the small of her back by sliding my forearms underneath her. I could smell her scent as I leaned on her pubis and gazed openly at her breasts. Whenever I lifted my eyes to hers I found her focused on me and returning my gaze. I so enjoyed witnessing the unbridled lust in her eyes. It thrilled me. We were finally holding each other visually and it was intensely sensual. How could we go back to the torture of relating via a cold and impersonal instant message box? How?
Eventually, hunger lured us out of bed. We dressed and shared a dinner of moo goo gai pan. As we ate, we discussed everything imaginable - world events, sexual kinks, TV shows, jewelry, marriage, history, books, etc. Hours later we kicked the dog off of my overstuffed couch and nestled into the best corner together.
We listened wordlessly to our favorite pieces of music. She looked through my photo albums and I simply closed my eyes and absorbed her. I could feel her heart beating against my chest. I was nearly drunk with her fragrance. It was so clear to me. I was completely in love with her. She satisfied me. She could soothe every ache - especially my deepest ache to finally share with someone everything - my body, my mind, my psyche, my lusts, my troubles, my joys, etc.
Here I was a woman in her forties and I couldn't think of one person who had come close to satisfying me like she did. I genuinely cared for my husband of 21 years but the flames had died long ago in so many areas of our relationship. He didn't come close to satisfying me in any sense.
After a year of corresponding, she and I knew each other intimately and yearned for much more. But we were both tied down in relationships. We took a chance and decided to meet, just once. We had to know if it was real. Now we knew. Being together had driven the truth irrevocably into our hearts.
So there we were listening to Placido Domingo, looking at pictures, and quietly agonizing. How could they avoid saying goodbye - forever?
"How?" she breathed as she drifted off to sleep in my arms.
"I don't know," I whispered back to her.
I knew there had to be a way.
Copyright © 2000 Ali Torrelli. All rights reserved. Do not copy or post.
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