The feelings I felt for the new male in my life had not diminished in the least, despite spending every day with him since the beginning. He moved in and never left. It was only supposed to be for a short time. That's what I said in the beginning. Without wanting to, I had fallen madly in love with him. After that, there was never any question about him staying forever.
I languished in bed feeling like a Queen. There was no hurry, I had no plans today which would take me outside my home. I was going to enjoy the pleasure of the wonderful vision who shared my bed. What a wondrous feeling it is to share the morning with someone you love. I reluctantly got up and put on my satin dressing gown as he watched me silently. He loved when I wore that dressing gown. With a look of utter content on his face he dozed off and returned to dream land, his body limp and relaxed. Oh that beautiful, exquisite body. Primitive in its desires yet sophisticated in its demands. Sometimes I wanted the whole world to see it. Most of the time, I wanted to keep it all to myself. It never disappointed and continued to bequeath me with a shock of joy every time I touched it. It was often hard to tear myself away from him when he lay as he did now. I bent over to give him one last kiss so I could absorb the scent of his hair which would sustain me while I left him to do the mundane acts associated with rising.
Strange, I just realized that no matter what time of the day or night it was, he always appeared immaculate. No unkempt hair. Nothing out of place. To me, he was always perfect.
I puttered around the kitchen like a regular little housewife. To be honest, I have never been the domestic type. The humdrum chores of being a home body had always bored me. I sensed that was about to change. Now, for some reason it felt right. He entered the room, hesitated and watched me from the doorway. A combination of scrutiny and devotion radiating from his face as he stood there the picture of pride and masculinity. Ever curious, the smell of the freshly brewing coffee must have urged him from the seclusion of the bedroom. It always did and now I wondered if I should have stayed in bed a little longer. His eyes promised untold ecstasy as they focused on me, seemingly searching the depths of my soul.
Our relationship was not yet a year old and it got better with each passing day. I was now at a point where I wasn't bashful about anything when he was around. I knew no matter what I did, it wouldn't make any difference to him. He would always love me. We had never suffered through the initial stages of being uncomfortable while getting to know each other. Always believing the axiom "familiarity breeds contempt" I knew now there were exceptions. This was my exception. What an incredible feeling, one I had seldom experienced always being aware of my appearance, my voice, my perfume, my breath. Those things we think of, when a relationship is in its infancy, didn't matter. Not often had I come to this point. There had been others but none that touched me the way he did. None that understood me like he did. None that could anticipate my every move like he did. He was very special.
The day moved in slow motion as I went about doing odd chores around the place. We weren't expecting any visitors today so there was no need for me to go shopping. In fact there was really no need for me to do anything. The weather was miserable and raining. The perfect day to relax and enjoy the company of a loved one. I had picked up a book earlier in the week and decided this was the day to start reading it. As I sat trying to concentrate his movement caused me to look up from the pages. Once again he came to me slowly, deliberately like a lithesome spirit. His desire once again needing to be fulfilled. I lost track of time, lost in an embrace as I held him in my arms not wanting to let go, even for a minute, his frenzied kisses covering my face and neck.
I tore myself away from him. This was insane. I had never considered a woman my age, with an adult son, would have feelings like this stirring in the depths of my bosom. This is the feeling love songs were written about. This was an emotion for young people. Or was it? I couldn't believe my luck. In other relationships I had always been the giver, never the recipient. This time it was different.
I watched as he reclined on the chesterfield, stretched out in all his glory, oblivious to my observation. One of the qualities I loved about him was his modesty. At no time did he act like he was any different from the others. Yet he was. He wasn't demanding or critical. He even liked my cooking. Never a day went by that he didn't show me never ending affection.
I reluctantly got up to prepare a snack while he remained in his position of ease. As usual he watched my every move. Sometimes he made me feel like a movie star with his never ending scrutiny. I could see he was as happy as I. This is a relationship which will last forever. I know in my heart I had finally found the perfect mate.
I called to him from the kitchen to share the latest sustenance. As I set a midday snack of tuna down for him I said a little prayer of thanks for having Toby in my life.
Listening with joy, as he purred in a rhapsody of pleasure, I contemplated the exquisite sound a cat makes when it's happy.
© 2001 by Lynn Perrier
About the Author: Lynn Perrier is a motivational writer whose life has lead her down many paths which opened her mind and heart to the important things in life. With an often humorous slant, her writing will leave you with food for thought and a smile on your face especially the articles about her cats
RHAPSODY WITH THE PERFECT MATE
This is my first venture into a Harlequin
type romance and I hope my
regular readers will enjoy this departure.
There is however a twist to the story and like all Alfred Hitchcock movies you are
sworn to secrecy and
must never reveal the shocking ending
The content of this page is copyright material. Use of the article in its entirety, portions of the article, or private pictures included herein is strictly prohibited and may not be published, reprinted or duplicated in any manner without the express permission of the author.
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