Stupid Girls

Saturday, July 24, 2004

my mouth tingles to kiss her

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We walked my park today. I walked to meet her, coming from her house. I showed her the sensual tree roots at the top of the park She said they're very Wiccan.

We sat and talked on a stone wall there. Secrets. Girl talk. Openings.

She said something. I can't remember what now. But I'd told her there was something I needed to say soon, and in person. Oh! She said I am the most romantic person she'd evr met. She said "Angel Hair" could sustain her for the rest of her life, whether anybody ever loved her again or not.

I said, "this it the time for me to tell you."

I took her hands in mine, looked her squarely in the eyes and said, "I love you."

She reached for me and we embraced. I kissed her throat, through that beautiful hair.

We walked back to my place, so I could make her some breakfast.

She began to get ill. It's a reaction to some serious stress she's had the last, couple of days and to eating some foods that aren't recommended for her health.

Her speech slurred slightly. She was disoriented. She had a head ache. She struggled to find the words for things.

I gave her a bit of cheese, some water and asprin.

I finished cooking breakfast, put a tray on her lap with her food.

We talked more.

She looked so tired.

A morning appointment got cancelled, with a ring of her cell phone.

I took her empty plate.

I removed her boots and socks and lay her on my sofa. I gave her my big, squishy teddy bear to hug.

I massaged her feet and calves with lotion and replaced her wet socks with my dry ones.

By then, Raoul was awake and making noise.

I closed my door, turned on the fans and put on Meg Christian's "Face The Music:" Classical guitar, folk music.

I piled pillows on the floor by her head. I massaged her face and head. She took my hand and pressed it to her forhead for warmth and pressure.

I sang to her. She sang back.

Gently, I stroked her face, her throat, her hair. She gathered my hand in hers, kissed it and hugged it to her breast.

At some point, I returned to the foot of the sofa, to get something off a table.

She reached for me, sat up slightly, slipped her arms around my waist and pressed her cheek to me.

I sat by her on the sofa, stroking her thigh, stroking her back.

She has agreed to the year. We will learn if we can be in love with each other. On July 3rd of next year, the anniversary of our first trip to the volcanoes, we'll discuss the potential for becoming lovers.

I helped her up, when it was time to go. I put her boots back on. I brushed her hair for the third time today and helped her pack.

I walked her home, as she shifted from being intimate to preparing to work.

She said she felt much better.

I've been busy, since I walked back from her place at about eleven this morning.

We got two extra, tender, happy, intimate, beautiful hours together to touch and talk and giggle.

While I was driving my scooter home just now, I thought how lucky I am. This magnificent creature is planning to make room in her heart, in her life, for me.

How many people get the opportunity to plan to be in love with someone in a year?

It's wonderful, knowing I have this to look forward to! It makes it SO much more relevent, that I'm taking care of myself, repairing my life, to be healthy and whole enough to really give her the best of me.

At one point today, I was laying with my cheek on her thigh. I whispered, "I'm so falling in love with you!" That's when she brought up the year-long agreement.

She feels me. She wants to feel me. She wants to love me. Her touch, her gentle kisses, were sure, not tentative. She was right here, heart to heart with me. We were comfortable, relaxed and open.

All those walls, masks, barriers, defenses that keep her safe and functional melted in my apartment today. She was right there, with me, reaching for me, wanting me.

This week, she finally broke down and announced that I'm her friend. I celebrated like I'd won the lottery -- more happy than that.

I never bed a woman who isn't first a friend.

It will happen. She will tell me she loves me. It's just time, and practice at being courted and romanced, before it happens.

I told her today how sexy she was, teasing me about the computer training. Her pouty mouth, four inches from my face, that hair, brushing my cheek, those arms, tangling with mine and brushing my breast. I told her I had no idea if I'd learned what she was teaching me, but I sure was crazy for an hour and a half. She laughed in such delight.

This woman is the finest thing to happen in my life for ...a very long time.

A year of this will have me so ready to make love with her, and she with me.

We talk about everything now. Everything.

The Somethings are disolving and the defenses come down.

This soft, strong, delicious being reaches for me now.

I am so grateful