The end of Southern summer. Nights when the air is impregnate with heat and moisture, when the barest of breezes from the gulf reach the arms of the trees, caressing them as you stand there in the quiet of the room. Music in the background playing low and heavy is secondary to the soft noise of the streets beneath, those footsteps and the soft hiss of the cars as they pass. Leave the windows open to the heat, don't close them, it's better that way. Let the heat find you even as my arms do, as I come up to stand close behind, wrapping them around your waist. There we stand, swaying almost invisibly in the darkness with only the light of the moon spilling in through the tall, narrow windows. This place, our sanctuary above the streets below, and no one knows we are here, again lost in one another.

Lean back against me. Let me feel the gentle brush of your hair against my skin. Let me go there, where I love… under the fall of it, against the nape of your neck, alongside, and up to your ear. You know the place, don't you? And the scent, of you, how intoxicating, how welcome and arousing to all of my senses, and yet, I've barely even begun to touch you.

Turn to face me. Wrap your hands gently at the back of my neck, move your hips against me, moving slowly in the light that barely would let anyone see the magic in my arms. I can see you, with these eyes of mine, and how yours, warm and full of your feelings shine so delicately in the path of our moonlit dance. How good your hands feel upon me as they move down over my back… slowly, one at a time as if you wish me to feel each second, and always remember the touch upon my skin. In my mind, over and over, each bit of you has been implanted, and I remember again and again when I am without you, and when I am near you like this, the rush of recollection threatens to overload my heart and mind.

We move together, without words, only the lingering touch of your lips against my throat, the feel of your skin against the bareness of my chest as the silken material of your shirt falls away. The shine on your shoulders provokes my lips instinctively, as they ache to linger there, and claim every inch of you as it is uncovered. How I feel for you… how I want you, as you are, against me, hard, and succulent. Our rhythm, our dance, is electric, low and intense, leaving me hungry for more of you, more of us, more of the moments that hang in the air, saturated and sinuous, winding around and begging for slow release as your lips finally meet mine.

Lay me down, come with me, into the soft abyss where there is no other truth but the rise and fall of flesh and no sound but for our breathing against one another, strong and lustful. Now free the rest of your body for my hands to caress. Yes.. how the light stretches along your curves in all the right places, leaving shadows that implore the press of my fingers. Your hands seek me, and I return the touches, listening to the soft moan of response from your lips so near to my skin as you lie against me breathing, moving slowly. For all the world it seems as though we're apart from the rest of the world, floating, somewhere timeless, only souls, arms, legs, lips, and essence before the flash, before the climax and the warm, slow decent that bathes us, cradles us, making us whole, together.

Finally in the night, rest comes, there in our bed, stretched out beside one another. For a moment all I can do is cherish the way you move closer and lie your head against my chest. Your breathing evens out and falls quiet, and then there is nothing but that perfection. The trees again outside the open windows, scraping against the old bricks, the symphony of a gentle rain that has begun, and you in my arms. The world goes on below, the night will pass and the day rise anew there in the streets beneath, and no one will know of our night, as we will know nothing of a thousand others who passed darkness together, moving slow and hard, and consuming one another, finding solace and strength in the hands of a lover, just as your touch empowers me, your emotions, pressed to me in physical form, your touch, yes… leaving me breathless, and wanting more, always, insatiably.