I watched him as he read the stories I’d only partially planned on him ever reading. Stories of my fantasies of us, of things I wanted to do with and to him. I wasn’t worried what he’d think. But I had written them while he, himself, was still a fantasy. The idea of sharing them with him had been a far off distant curiosity that I thought may never be fulfilled.
“I want to watch you.” He whispered, pulling away from me. “I want to know what makes you feel good. I want to know how you want to be touched.”
I had stepped outside for a breath of air. It was all over. Everything I had been planning, obsessing over for months, had come to a close. I had left everyone else inside, sneaking out to be alone for a few minutes and breathe.
One thing I had heard from pretty much all of my girlfriends was that they were all too tired at the end of the day to consummate their marriages. That when they finally got to their hotel suite or even just back home, some of them even fell asleep still in their dress.
The air between them was tense as he helped her retrieve her suitcase from the baggage carousel. It was a nearly tangible tension but definitely not a negative one. Instead, it was the tension that came with having too much to say to one another. After all, the reason she had made this trip was to, once and for all, sort out their feelings, face to face, skin to skin, if it came to that.