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Did I Think Of You?

1 September, 2012

GAW will be back in the country tomorrow, back in the offiice on Tuesday. I will be in the kitchen on Monday night.
Thank you to CC for suggesting I write this.

 

I bit into the biscuit you handed me, and a familiar yet unplaceable flavour poured over my tongue, filled my mouth, its aroma rising to flirt with my nose.
‘What flavour is this?’ I asked, ‘I recognise it but I just can’t work it out.’
You smiled knowingly, a little victoriously even. ‘It’s a tea biscuit,’ you said, ‘a biscuit made with tea. But I used Early Grey as I know it’s your favourite.’
Of course! I knew that unique, deep taste of bergamot now. ‘You made these especially for me?’ I asked.
‘I told you I thought of you while you were away.’
I let the comment hang in the air, allowed mystery, uncertainty, to gather around it, and took the freshly-filled mug from your hand. I blew the steam away from the surface of the tea and sipped, my eyes flicking to yours for just the tiniest fraction before closing.
‘So did you think of me?’ you asked at last, eager to resolve the suspense.

Did I think of you?

When the flight took off from Heathrow and the terrific force of our ascent filled me with anxiety, it was your hand I wanted to grasp, your shoulder I wanted to lean into, your voice I wanted to hear reassuring me.

When I drank tea in the morning, tea with my lunch, I imagined your smile from the other side of the desks, your hands raised across the office in that ‘T’ shape, inviting me for a Time-out, for a Tea run.

When I spoke to him late at night, when he said he wished he was with me, that he hated the ocean and the distance between us, when I agreed, when I said I wished we were together, when I said ‘I miss you’, it was you I spoke to.

When I applied sun cream before visiting the beach, it was you I imagined lightly stroking me, your delicate fingers devouring every inch of my arms, my legs, my stomach, my neck, my back, my body, a routine of protection transformed into an act of worship, a declaration of desire.

When I found myself on a nude beach, when I searched for the bravery to take off my bikini, it was you I imagined with me, daring to strip with me, laying alongside me, bronzed, bare, as we gently massaged more sun cream onto each others bodies, onto those intimate parts now exposed, it was you I imagined having to lie on your front as your excitement at our touch, at our being together, naked, outdoors, grew.

When I swam in the clear blue of the sea, it was you I imagined with me, swimming, splashing, playing, kissing, embracing, caressing, our nakedness separated only by the tiniest, thinnest coating of Pacific waters, your hardness eagerly pressing against me, teasing me, arousing me, begging to enter me.

When I was alone on the beach later, my bikini still discarded beside me as I watched the sun glowing an incandescent orange, coasting towards the horizon, when the breeze from the sea became cooler, tickling against my skin, each follicle tightening, each nerve tingling as that satisfying air brushed my body into tiny goose bumps, when I closed my eyes, dipped my hand between my legs, when my fingers lightly stroked, gently releasing the first glistenings of sweet honey from the core of me, when they began to explore, enquiring at first, then more insistently, more forcefully, more desperately, deeper, faster, harder, when I no longer knew where I was, or when I was, or who I was, when I was aware only of my fingers quickening, my back arching, my thighs lifting from the sand, my voice calling, crying, my mind filling with images of a strong, hard body lying with me, thrusting, perspiring, joining with me, journeying with me, it was your body I felt, it was your face I saw, it was your voice I heard as I let out a cry, and a powerful, convulsing shudder of ecstatic release burst through me, ripples of sensual pleasure flowing, heightening and extending my climax to extremes I had never known.

‘So tell me, did you think of me at all?’ you repeated, eager for your thoughts to be reflected in mine.
‘Did I think of you?’ I said pensively, sipping the tea you had prepared for me, nibbling another of the biscuits you had baked for me.
‘Maybe once or twice.’

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9 Comments
  1. TheOthers1 permalink

    Oh, now that was nice. It built just like a lovely climax. I need to offer suggestions more often. 🙂

  2. My lovely friend – you have it bad. :o)

  3. I love that state of mind you had to be in to write this. Gorgeous.

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