Hello Helen; It's Michael. DH Steppler. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: DH Steppler
Издательство: Ingram
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Жанр произведения: Контркультура
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781607462088
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left you a note,” Michael said.

      He took a piece of paper that had been torn from the kitchen tablet out of his pocket and handed it to me.

      ‘Elena, I love you. Thank you for loving us. See you at my home soon. L’.

      The words written in her hand invited in the longing and gave me a bit of reconnect at the same time. The reunion would be sweet when we met again. I lingered over the note a bit longer than a normal person would have and Michael came to me and lifted my chin to look into my eyes.

      “The bruising will probably be gone by this time tomorrow; the swelling’s nearly gone now. More time in the garden and you’ll be all better.”

      He nuzzled his face next to mine and kissed my cheek. The rush hit us both and hard. I responded immediately and so did Michael. I swear it was like being hit with that ‘hammer’ that doctors use to test your reflexes. Nature tells us that we’re not supposed to have to resist what that stimulus causes. I’d go with nature every time.

      Michael operated on the premise that it’s better to honor what our connection was asking of us and not resist. Well, at that moment I was with Michael, feeling the same incessant animal need which we knew to be a product of our connection. All progress in the kitchen work stopped and we took our need to my room and the big bed.

      Both of us crawled to the center of the bed, fluffed up our pillows, and positioned ourselves flat on our backs. A few adjustments took place and then as if we had signaled each other we rolled into a facing position like it was part of a dance. It did no good to try to hide the need brought on by the reconnect as Michael could feel what I felt; he knew and felt my desire for him just as I could feel his need for me.

      His breath was intoxicating. I closed my eyes and gave thanks that he was there with me for those moments. His eyes were watching me and were my first focus of awareness. They were liquid with desire and I hoped that my eyes told the same story.

      Our bodies were drawn together by our lips. The experiment, as we sometimes like to call those little episodes, gave us the same information as before but maybe we could note that it was a little more intense than the episode before. We launched three more ‘experiments’ before we went to the kitchen to put away the groceries that Michael had picked up at the store earlier.

      Looking into my faded black and wild eyes, Michael wondered.

      “We’ve done that so many times, you’d think that we’d be experts about every nuance and twitch of an orgasm, maybe even be numb by the knowledge, but baby, honestly, there’s something new every single time and I want it just as much each time.”

      He spoke from his heart and from his own internal research about what our relationship meant to him.

      “Me, too.”

      To change as little as possible would be my goal; why change what was perfect. We were surrounded by peace and contentment. I’d had actual sex that very day and you can take my word for it when I say that not having sex with Michael and our wave was better than having really good sex with anyone else. After saying that, I’d also like to add that comparisons of that sort do no good at all.

      The remains of our late supper sat on the dining room table as Michael and I danced around the house. We showed each other what great partners we were and both of us loved what we became while in each other’s dance embrace. We were the smoothest of dance teams, elegant and crisp and fluid. Michael was constantly inventive and fun. We waltzed, long, slow, sensual waltzes for the first couple of CDs. It was Michael’s choice so he was probably thinking of my comfort in allowing our meal to settle. He saved the spins and lifts for nearly an hour after we’d eaten, endearing really.

      Sometimes our dancing felt like a catch with each of us challenging the other to go beyond and to reach farther and deeper. We continually met the challenges and parries of the other and delighted in every success.

      Eventually, even though I worked at not letting it show, fatigue took its toll. I’d stay in his arms as much as possible during the hours we had left. Dancing prohibited me from talking and kept me from saying stuff I’d be sorry for at some time in the future. Well, the bottom line was that it felt so damn good to move as a united body. It always came down to me wanting more than I could have. I was greedy and would work on not being completely broken when he left the following evening. Focusing on the positive was gonna be my strong suit, my front, my way to cope and probably the best way to cope.

      Michael stayed with me in my bed that night. We stayed connected all night and ignited each other’s passion on a number of occasions during those hours. The wave rewarded us many times and even when we had had enough the wave hunted us down like a tenacious marksman, bringing us both to our knees from ‘the seizures and death throes’ while we convulsed in each other’s arms, melting into each other to strengthen our base and stand united.

      After we’d settled down we talked and wondered aloud how we could even think of ever doing that again because it was so frightening. But only minutes later one of us would express a need in some tiny little move that would signal the other and we would wrap up again. Prepared for whatever came our way, we blatantly enticed and goaded the reconnect to hit us with the best shot, we both liked kissing so we kissed and then the wave hit, we’d kiss again and the wave hit again.

      Even the ‘experiments’ in our sleep were interesting but I’m not sure that we learned anything new from it all.

      When my eyes opened and I was fully conscience of Michael’s presence I moaned the first sound of the day. It was a good omen that the first sound was one of pleasure and expectation. Michael mimicked that moan which I took as an invitation, so I turned in his arms and rolled him over onto his back giving me greater access to all of him. He moaned again; another invite perhaps? Accepting that explanation, I covered as much of his body as I could while lying directly on top of him; quietly and slowly I spread my legs and straddled him. I kissed his neck and breathed in his ear and laced my fingers through his short hair as I squeezed him between my thighs.

      Another moan, a long moan that turned into a growl came from Michael and he reversed our positions in one swift move. It was the beginning of another great ride with Michael, my Michael, the Michael given to me by the universe. I invited and accepted all that he had to give me. It was a great way to start the day.

      When we were sated Michael fell back to sleep but I had stuff to get to so I started my Friday with a quick shower and my morning routine. And finally a look in the mirror proved Michael correct about the bruising as my color was nearly back to normal. The swelling was gone but my nose had a slightly different shape; the difference was so small that I’d be the only one to ever notice.

      Before I headed for my coffee and the garden I started the laundry that had been neglected the day before.

      Granting myself a half an hour in the garden (the same time it took for the laundry to finish washing) to bond, gather food for the morning and welcome the new day as the sun broke the horizon. Armed with an empty produce basket and my large mug of coffee, I found my way to the garden table. I sipped the hot coffee and existed in the middle of the garden, enjoyed the rich clean oxygen and the gentle communication that carried on in the wind.

      When my time was nearly up in the garden I remembered the chore of collecting the needed morning produce and merely thought the need before the bounty was presented to me; my only real effort was to pick the gifts up from the ground, except for the greens, of course. Before heading back inside and to the rest of the day I tried to think of two things, a toast and a song.

      The fingers of the reconnect reached out to me and I could feel Michael’s approach as profoundly as if he were shouting my name as he came. Not the style of the reconnect. The reconnect would only be privately, quietly vulgar. He brought with him his own mug and wasted no time in greeting the sun as it peeked over the horizon. He raised his mug in honor.

      “May the sun give light to this day as we travel through it together, make our plans, and enjoy each other, cheers, thanks a lot, eh?”

      Michael sat with me for a few minutes and then as