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Chapter One: Somewhere I Have Never Traveled
It was dark when I left New York. The early light of Spring fading into a chilly Northeastern night. When I arrived in Paris, it was mid-morning and the sun was shinning brightly. It was one of those bright intense Parisian Spring days that feels like summer in the sun and winter in the shade. The kind they write songs about.
Jean Luc was waiting for me when I cleared security and I was racing to Centre City and a day I had been anticipating for weeks.
‘You are quiet this morning monsieur’ Jean Luc said. ‘Jet lag?’
‘No Jean Luc, I’m just lost in thought. I’m sorry, how have you been?’
‘C’est bon monsieur, tres bon…ca va?’
‘Ca va Jean Luc, ca va bien!.’
I arrived at the apartment and asked Jean Luc to take my bags up while I strolled to the market. I picked up a baguette, flowers, butter, some eggs, chives and goat cheese. On the way back, I grabbed a nice Cote du Provence and some champagne. I chilled the wine in the freezer while I hopped in the shower and made ‘breakfast’. My mind said morning but my stomach was ready for dinner so I tucked in to my scrambled eggs with goat cheese and chives accompanied by the wine and bread. After I ate, I flopped naked on the bed and was out cold.
I must have slept a while (damn, I wish I could sleep on planes) because it was late when the intercom waked me. I knew who it was of course so I buzzed the gate and opened the door naked with a flower in my hand and a smile on my face. As soon as she rounded the corner on the stairs, she burst out laughing.
‘Mon Dieu, airport security has gone too far non?’
I threw the flower at her and snaked my arm around her waist, pulling her close and kissing her very deeply. I broke the kiss to bury my nose in her neck and inhale. I was home at last.
I pulled her inside and backed her up against the door. She reached up to caress my face and said ‘oh la la, je adore monsieur scruffy’, feeling the days old growth on me.
‘I did it for you but you know I think it makes me look old’ I replied.
‘Yes, but this makes up for it Grey Beard’ she said grabbing my semi-erect cock. ‘He still looks young.’
‘Je t’ame’ I said kissing her again.
‘Je t’ame’ she replied with a smile of anticipation.
Then came the dance. Our dance. I can’t even remember when it started but I remember how. It had always been one of my favorite poems but then I met her and suddenly I understood it in a whole new light. The words rang in my ears and I felt it in my gut. Before her it was a skilled verse. After her it is a poem!
I began…’somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond’
My fingers traced the alabaster skin of her cheekbone.
‘any experience, your eyes have their silence:’
I kissed her on the eyelids so happy to have those eyes look at me with that much love.
‘in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,’
Our fingers entwine and she lays her head on my shoulder and lightly kisses my neck.
‘or which i cannot touch because they are too near’
She looks up and our eyes meet. Those blue, blue eyes framed by that flawless white skin and hair as dark as a raven.
‘your slightest look easily will unclose me’
No movement now, the only thing in the world is our eyes and my words.
‘though i have closed myself as fingers,’
My hips press into hers and she moans. She presses back against my erection.
‘you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens’
I gently begin to explore the openings in her clothes.
‘(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose’
The jacket falls away and the beige lace shirt has trouble concealing her dark, erect nipples. I pinch one.
‘or if your wish be to close me, i and’
She leans in and bites my neck and grasps me, feeling my pulse in my cock.
‘my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,’
I fumble at her pants….
‘as when the heart of this flower imagines’
She pulls the shirt overhead…
‘the snow carefully everywhere descending,’
I reach down to feel the cashmere thong I gave her. That would mean a fresh waxing as well.
‘nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals’
She moans again and slumps into me as my strong hands grasp the heat of her sex.
‘the power of your intense fragility: whose texture’
We kiss again. It’s a slow intense kiss, which we linger over, exploring, connecting….
‘compels me with the color of its countries,’
She wants to speak, perhaps cut the dance short but I shake my head and my fingers slip inside the panties.
‘rendering death and forever with each breathing’
She is stroking my cock now and it’s becoming harder to speak. My breath is shorter and I’m beginning to sweat.
‘i do not know what it is about you that closes’
I kiss her with great urgency and her white skin has turned pink as the flush of desire washes over her chest and cheeks.
‘and opens, only something in me understands’
She yanks the thong off and tosses it aside….
‘the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses’
Her left leg shoots around my waist as she guides my cock toward her pussy, rubbing the tip slowly along her opening, dancing on her clit…waiting for me to say….
‘nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands’
She locks on my eyes and says, ‘welcome home’ and guides me inside. We go at each other as though I just got out of prison. Teeth, tongues, fingers, nails! Eventually we end up on the floor in a sweaty heap dripping sweat and cum. She smells like heaven and all I can say is ‘I’m hungry.’ In a fit of hysterical laughter she slaps me and bites my chest.
~
Maddie
- 14.11.2020
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