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Copyright ©2003 Maureen L Reardon This is an original work and as such is protected under the copyright laws of the United States. Please do not duplicate, copy, print, distribute or exchange this piece without the expressed written permission of the author

The flames were flickering brightly; As If Dancing with life. The fireplace had already captured the heat from the fire. Ryan was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace leaning back on the edge of the couch. Ryan sipped a cup of coffee slowly, allowing the aromatic vapors to fill her senses. All of Ryan's senses were accepting what the evening offered; the heat of the fire, the dancing shadows enhanced by the flames, the excellent coffee, and of course Denise. She was still in the shower, most likely trying to rinse the conditioner out of her hair. Ryan loved her hair. Loved to touch it, smell it, and to brush it for her. She took such good care of her herself. Smelling of peaches, an appropriate scent, as she was a peach herself, soft, yet firm, ripe with the sweetness of my favorite southern fruit. Her hair flowed down her back ending deep in the small of her back. Seeing her naked from behind always left Ryan short of breath as her beauty snatched it away from her. Ryan never tired of looking at Denise.

Ryan gaze and thoughts shifted from the fire and its warmth to the big window facing the lake, sun already below the horizon with traces of daylight fading into the wide expanse of water to the West. Denise had been on Ryan's mind most of the day, not unlike almost every day since she met her. Things had been tough for her lately; demanding job, demanding home life, and decisions about both that weighed heavier still. Ryan was filled with satisfaction that Denise chose her to be with to find the necessary distraction to save her sanity. Ryan knew they could not be together as often as they would both want, but knew their friendship would survive whatever life dealt to either of them. Within limitations Ryan loved her, and she loved her. Within some limits was an element of safety she needed, a constancy of a loving friend, the distance of commitment as she sorted out her life. Within those limits they shared a love and a passion few would ever find.

Wrapped in Ryan's thick terry cloth robe she continued to sip the coffee as she waited for her to join her by the fire. They had made love for hours earlier in the afternoon with evening creeping up on them without notice. Ryan's shower had relaxed her to the point of giving in to the pull of the fire, and the coffee, to contented sleep. The warmth of the room hastened the effects of the coffee as her eyes closed, giving in to her contentment.

She knelt down next to Ryan sleeping, removing the near empty cup from her hand. She could feel her warmth inside the folds of terry cloth as she sat close to her, watching her sleep. Ryan's breathing was slow and deep, a satisfied sleep she thought to herself. Her own contentment derived from knowing she had satisfied her, had pleasured her, had given herself to her, and had taken from her the pleasure she offered in return. They made such sweet love every time they were together. Ryan was so generous with her giving, so accepting of hers. There was never any feeling that she was only trying to satisfy herself. Ryan's attention to Denise's needs seemed to fill her with her own fulfillment. No womyn had ever treated her that way, never had she received loving that unleashed her passions to return it with no inhibitions, no embarrassment, and no feelings that she was being used. She accepted Ryan's love with no limitations.

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Authors Note: Is there a sweeter context in which to write other than irony? I don't think so. So perhaps it's appropriate that this story met with discontent when it felt as though I was dragging it out. I did a lot of writing here, on this piece before publishing this story. But the truth of it is that I have worked on this story collectively for two years. I have no less than seven versions of it. I have chapters and chapters of unpublished material that no one will see. Some...

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