Lance and I crept into the room like young lovers eager to discover them selves for the first time. I had butterflies in my stomach imagining what it would be like to take it slow for once and not have to hurry like the day was to steal your lover.

I took off his suit jacket, my hands trembling and then I went further to unbutton his shirt. He started to nibble at my neck, soft baby kisses, that left my mouth watering. I reached down to undo his pants, and it came falling to the ground soon after.

He held my face, his eyes wanting every part of me and then he kissed my mouth so soft, then my nose, my eyes, and my ears and then came back to my mouth. I felt my blood heat up. He brushed his hand across my nipples causing them to harden with the slightest touch, and then he whispered in my ears, “Is there anything you want me to do to you?”
Moaning, I replied, “Just you, just you Lance.” The former me, would have otherwise replied, something obscene, but that me was on vacation tonight.

He unclasped the silver brooch at the back of my neck, and the dress fell to the ground like a wall. I was standing in front of him in my lace underwear’s and the silk pantyhose. He bent down to undo those, his mouth making a stop for my breasts. He fondled and kissed each one of them tenderly, his tongue teasing my nipples until they became hard.

Then, he carried me onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. This time there was no fumbling for the condom, no scratching, no yelling and certainly no quick climax just a soft moan that signified a pleasurable descent into sexual splendor (la-la) land. And as our hips intertwined in rhythm, slowly rising in tempo, at full thrust we exploded in each other’s arms.
Immediately after, Lance fell asleep in my arms.

The next morning I woke up feeling guilty. It wasn’t guilt over sex, or enjoying sex, or even cheating on AJ (whom I had by this time forgotten), no it was a different kind of guilt, one I couldn’t really put my finger on. I didn’t know if it was guilt or anger, or nostalgia over the guys; whatever it was it made me sick to my stomach and I couldn’t lie in bed thinking about it. I left Lance fast asleep in bed and made for the shower, I felt the water would do me good.

The water did some good, but not as instantaneous as it had the last time I felt this bad. It just numbed me, cooling the hyperactive nerves that had been agitated for the past couple of days. Wow! Making love took more out of me than lustful energizing sex.

I heard someone knock, and then Lance peeped his head in. He opened the shower door and asked, “Mind if I join you?” He was already naked.
I hissed inside me, haven’t I seen enough of you yet? Just what I need some more sex in the shower. But I couldn’t darn well refuse him for having the courtesy to ask first, so I accepted. He stepped in shutting the door behind him.

Immediately, he wrapped his hands around my waist pulling me to him. I felt his manhood rub against my back, lodging in between my spine; it wasn’t hard but it was getting there. We stood still for about a minute, saying nothing, just dripping under the shower: The water from his hair dropping on my shoulders, and the water from my breasts cascading down from his fingers, which were adequately tucked underneath them.

Occasionally, he would massage the scented body wash on my back, my breasts and on my stomach, rubbing the silky smoothness over my body with his rough hard hands, but it always culminated in an embrace; an emotional warm embrace, either having his back to mine, or mine to his. He didn’t say a word all through this, and neither did I? The intensity of the silence was eating into me. I wasn’t used to this; most showers I took always ended up in pure, unadulterated sex, with one person screaming the other’s name whilst banging on the shower door before climaxing. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, not to me. This wasn’t what I was used to? What was he doing to me? What was I doing to him? He was making me feel things in places I had never felt before, and the worst thing about it was, I was enjoying it.

I had tried to imagine a way a man would reach into me and pull out my heart, and if I had to describe it, I would say Lance did it that morning in the shower. As if the intimacy we shared last night was not explosive enough, he had to top it off with this steaming, surreal shower, in which both of us shared a quiet moment becoming one with our bodies. It was a closeness I wasn’t used to, and it hit me where it mattered.
 

When he was sure, I was done, we stepped out of the shower and he offered to towel dry my body, starting from my hair down to my legs. The fact that he didn’t speak was pinching me. Choked with emotion, I pulled him close and kissed him, a soft kiss to say thank you, thank you for this, thank ylou for being so gentle, thank you for taking your time to make love to my body. The kiss got so intense that we ended up making love, on the bathroom floor ---the kind of sex of which I was accustomed.