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VISITOR
She lay awake, restless like so many nights in the past few months.
She waited. The clouds had parted and the light of the full moon shined
through the louvered blinds on her bedroom window. Each month when the full
moon came she turned the blinds up toward the sky to let the cool blue light
fall across the room. She understood faith. She waited.
The knock came. She listened, not sure if it was her imagination. She had
waited so long. Night after night. Month after month.
She had dreamed
it, knew the knock would come.
She rose silently and lighted incense, candles around the room. The light
of the moon disappeared. She listened. The knock came again, like in
the dream. She put on a quiet CD that reminded her of other nights like
this long ago, let the music fill her. She walked slowly, silently
up the stairs to the door, opened it. He stood there.
Both of them were silent. Even in the darkness, she could see his eyes.
His scent was stronger than the incense that wafted past her through
the open door. She shivered as the night air came through the door. She
felt her heart leap to her throat. She thought of crying, letting the
endless tears flood out.
She reached out and took his hand, led him down the stairs that they both
knew by feel even in the darkness. He reached for her to hold her. She
let her body move into him, remembering the feel of his lean arms, the
power of his presence, the clean scent of the Old Spice deodorant
he wore instead of cologne.
They stood there like this for a time, swaying slowly to the music.
There were words to say, but neither of them said them. They both knew
what came next, but neither of them moved. They stood there, wrapped
together.
Then she moved her arms from around his neck, down his arms to his waist,
to the rim of his jeans. She slid her fingers through his belt loops and
felt him swell against her. She took the fabric of his shirt into her
hands and slowly pulled it from his pants. He breathed raggedly against
her neck, and she felt the familiar gooseflesh along the leg on the same
side. She thought of stopping there. She thought of taking him back to
the door and opening it, of watching him walk away without a word.
Instead, she put her hands under his shirt and ran them round his back.
He shivered, let his hands slide down her back to her ass, pulled her
into him so hard she thought they might merge into one person. She
remembered they would not.
She pulled his shirt up and pressed her breasts into his chest. He reached
down and took the hem of her nightshirt, slowly sliding it up her legs,
over her thighs and hips, past her breasts. She let go of him reluctantly
to let him slide it over her head, watched it drop in a little pile at
their feet.
She pulled away enough to unbutton his shirt, and slide it down his arms,
letting it drop behind him. She moved close enough to let her nipples graze
the hairs of his chest. She felt the ripple of desire shoot through her
like a lightening rod, straight to the place where all lightening
like this comes to rest. Everything within its path swelled, large and
small at the same time like that place of drifting off to sleep. Her
body felt full and empty at the same time.
Just then, a ray of moonlight shone through the blinds. She had her eyes
wide open. She could see everything around her like it was daylight.
She knew this night would pass. Daylight would come. She closed her
eyes.
She reached between them and opened his belt, the top button on his jeans.
She kissed him deeply, let the warmth of his tongue move within her mouth.
She held him to her so she could feel his hardness against her.
He reached around to cup her breasts in his hands, leaning down to lick one
nipple, making slow circles. She felt her nipples harden, the flesh
remembering his mouth. Her knees went weak, and she nearly lost her balance.
She thought again of crying.
She reached between them again, and slowly slid his zipper down. He moaned,
and dropped his head to her shoulder. She licked his neck, covered it
with soft kisses, moving down his chest to find his nipple nestled in a
bed of hair. She licked and softly bit it. He shuddered, and found her
breasts, gently twisting both nipples between his fingers. She tipped back
her head and heard a small cry as if it came from someone else.
She slid her hands into his jeans, and squatting, slid them down to his ankles.
She slid his boxers down, and as his erect penis sprang into the air he gasped,
his knees buckled. The garments around his ankles held him captive. On
her knees, she leaned in and let her tongue find the tip of his penis. Then
licked it like an ice cream, letting her tongue find the base and run along
the length all the way to the head, then making light little circles, licking
the moisture droplet that appeared there.
She teased, licked, and reached down to let him slip out of his shoes, then
pulled the other garments off over his feet. He stood naked before her,
his raging erection there in her face. She looked up into his eyes. They
twinkled in the light of the candles. She thought she saw a tear on his
cheek.
She gently pulled him down onto the bed. He moved quickly to lie along the
length of her. They lay like this, his hardness pressed against her belly.
She thought again of the door, imagining looking through the peephole and
turning away. She kissed him, letting her tongue explore his lips, his
teeth, his tongue. He kissed her eyelids and cheeks, perhaps expecting to
find tears there.
He rolled over onto his back and reached for the bottle of oil on the nightstand,
unopened since he had given it to her months ago. He cracked the seal and
poured a generous amount into his hand, warming it. He reached for her breasts
and massaged the oil into them until they shined in the candlelight.
She knelt above him and poured cool oil directly onto his belly and penis.
He gasped and reached for her breasts, running his hands down her body to
her waist, her buttocks. She looked into his eyes as she lowered her
head to his engorged penis, and licked the oil down around the shaft, letting
her hand help in the movement. She placed her mouth around the head, holding it
there until she could feel his pulse, wild and erratic, jerking his penis in
her mouth.
His hand found her clit, and massaged in slow circles, swelling, swelling all
the flesh of her. Her cheeks were hot, her mouth engulfed him. She let him
into her, held him deep at the back of her throat until she felt him ready to
explode inside her, then moved away and caught her breath. She let him slide
from her mouth, licking at the huge red head of him.
She stopped and looked at him, his body so ready for her, his every nerve
pulsing. He opened his eyes. He pulled her onto him. She raised herself
and reached between them to take his penis into her hand, then let the head
rest at the opening of her. He pushed upward seeking entrance. She held him
there at the entrance, making circles against herself with the head of his
penis. She let the head inside her, and he gasped, his breath coming in
short bursts. She moved slowly, prolonging the sensation of entrance. She
began to let her hips move in slow circles, letting him enter deeper with
each descending circle, until she had taken him all the way into the center of
her as she always had before.
She sat up high on him and looked into his open eyes. They smiled at each
other for the first time this night. The moon shone through the shades, making
lines of light and darkness across their bodies. He began to thrust up under
her. She leaned into him to let her clit ride his motion. She looked into his
eyes. He looked into hers. She leaned down and put her mouth to his. Their
tongues danced together, licking in the rhythms of their hips.
Time stretched out in slow motion as she felt him shudder, ready to release into
her, she making quick strokes against him until they were both exploding, wildly
bucking against each other, their cries going deep into each other's throats. Time
stopped.
She tried to close her eyes, but could not. She felt their pulsing slow
and then
stop, felt him grow slack within her. She rolled off. They lay there
silently
for awhile. She rose from the bed. He watched her with a question on his face,
then he stood, too. They held each other softly.
He pulled away and looked
at her, started to speak. She put a finger to his
lips. He stood there
for a moment, then gathered up his clothes and dressed quickly.
She sat on the side of the bed as he walked up the stairs. As in a dream, she
heard him open the door, turn the lock and let himself out into the night.
She opened the blinds on the windows all the way to let the moonlight into
the room. She lay down, and slept in the flood of cool blue moonlight,
slept and dreamed of faith.
© Joan Barton, 1997
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