How can I know her so well? Before she made that first fateful approach, the one I was too tentative to make? Before our lips have so much as touched I know how she will taste.

It's obvious to anyone with eyes that there is strength and grace and beauty in her, and I have spent many a lonely evening enraptured by agonizing fantasies of the curves and swells that lie beneath her deceptively demure package. Even now, she stands on tiptoe, warm breath in my face, gazing at me with a dangerous combination of unwavering trust and aching need. I know, without question, before this dance of desire has truly begun that she will be sublime.

And so it begins with a kiss. Sweet Athena! That's too mild. It isn't just a kiss. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, it's more. It's the kiss of life; her warm lips against mine and the soft exhalation that breathes new spirit into my empty soul. And I can taste dinner even as our tongues battle. How fortunate...how fateful that we both like onions. And this kiss is all about fate...about how two souls find one another in the myriad of humanity. She found me...and I her. I'm not sure I will ever appreciate how rare a thing that is. But as I hold her in my arms, feeling the pleasant weight of her hips against mine, I know that I can stop looking.