This is me, floating on cloud nine. I look over at the pillow on my left, the spot that for weeks has been barren and cold. He's there, breathing deeply, exhausted from long flights, long lines, and a long drive. I should go in the other room but I don't want to be away from him, not for a second. I'm still floating, basking in the glow of his kiss, his touch, his love. Homecoming. My adorable husband is completely worth the wait.
Eric had an hour drive once he landed and we talked the entire time. Giddy and giggly, I bounced from room to room, straightening this and rearranging that. The plate stacked with brownies sat next to a giant potted plant of snap dragons and rested on the tabletop; with it's underbelly converted into a plush blanketed cozy fort with six snap lights hanging from strands of yarn. We got off the phone when the garage door sounded and I raced upstairs for one last swish of mouthwash.
From the entryway, Eric beamed up at me and I squealed with delight as I flew down into his arms. We kissed and kissed. I pulled away to steal a glance at his handsome face, only to dive back in and drink of his lips. We made our way to the living room, my clothes leaving a trail, until I wrapped my nakedness around him, melting while he held on tightly, our hearts reconnecting one beat at a time. More kisses. I bent down, beckoning him to follow me into the fort.
Smack, smack. That familiar hand on my ass. Irresistible. I am to him, he is to me.
"I've been dreaming of this moment for five days straight," he says, rocking me gently onto my back, nipples ripe and on display under the glow of neon. I rise toward his body but he pushes me into place and pulls a soft blue blindfold from his pocket. "Tonight is all about you, love," he says, fingers tracing my cheeks, neck, breasts, and belly. Knees spread, I grasp the material covering the floor as his soft wet kisses make a line down my inner thigh.
I moan and whisper, "I like that."
Eric continues, tongue darting in and out, up and down, bringing my body to life. He's done this before, smooth waxed skin a canvas for his touch. I always blush and squirm away, worried that my body won't respond correctly, my mind questioning my scent, my reaction, my value. I want to please him but don't do well with the reverse. For me, there is always the impossibility of an orgasm and I usually move us in another direction.
Tonight is different. The blindfold has heightened my senses by removing my sight. Weeks apart have exaggerated my longing and I lean into the passion Eric has chosen to shower on me. I breathe in the rough patch of his five o'clock shadow and allow him to stimulate, enlighten, awaken the parts of me that have hidden for far too long.
"Slow," the word escapes in a wisp of sound and a ripple makes it's way across my ocean to the treasured tip buried deep beneath the hood of my tiny ship.
"There," I say, repeating the word as the feelings grow. Anxiety momentarily sets in as I get close and I reach for his hand. Fingers intertwine fingers and my hips rise, enveloping full oral penetration. It happens, for the first time ever, at the touch of his tongue. I burst into flames; no fear, no shame. There is simply, pleasure.
We celebrate, more than just Eric coming home. A painfully tainted past has received a giant crack in the wall that shields me from vulnerability and I nestle securely in the arms of the man who takes his time and keeps me safe. We make our way to bed, too tired to indulge in the chocolate coma baked especially for this occasion.
"Tomorrow, honey. Tomorrow."
I float overhead, watching him sleep, from my new position on cloud nine. I want him to do it again.