She is smiling as she is picking up an outfit
Dressing up for him
such pleasure
each piece of clothing
carefully chosen
for their love dates
to reflect her mood
or his appetite..
He always notices
half smiling
half checking her out
throwing in a comment
playfuly, teasingly
''my little foxy....''
she loves that endearment
and his smile that goes with it...
''We just can't stay away from each other,
not for too long at least'',
she thought to herself.
Needing each other
in a very intense and strange way.
Feeding off
each other's nourishing energy.
Looking for each other
when a few hours pass
when they don't communicate.
Even online,
even via the phone...
Κραταει χρονια, αυτη η κολωνια...
''Maybe love and gratitude is one and the same thing..''
Her Christmas present to him:
a small pocket notebook,
handwritten,
by her.
Each page,
one of the things
she loves about him
or she is grateful about
They are so many...
It would take
many pocket notebooks
to enumerate them all.
For Love ang Gratitude
is but one and the same thing....
She's eating chestnuts
her favorite winter treat.
They say,
the first time in the season
you eat a fruit or nut,
you should make a wish.
Her wish
automatically comes to her mind,
before her brain has time
to prossess or sensor it:
''Let our love last for ever!''
For ever...
Big words,
frighteningly scary.
And ever so sweet...
''Your dick grows bigger
each time I see you'', she observes.
''But of course'', he jokes back.
''The older a man gets,
the bigger his dick grows,
didn't you know that, foxy?''
Love makes everything grow...
''This is all so good!''
He makes a sweeping motion
with his hand":
the reastaurant they're eating at,
the meal he's just had,
being here with her,
everything
.
They're talking over their last glass of wine.
''It's like I got away from everything'', he continues.
''Nothing else mattered those past two days''.
She nodds in agreement.
''We still have today'', she says
Somehow,
each hour they spent together
seems like a gourmet dinner
enjoyed at one's leisure.
Magically recharging each other,
rejuvenating each other.
The feeling you get
after a strong cup of coffee
and a glass of your favorite wine,
those two combined , two in one:
both invigorating and relaxing.
She stores this moment
in her treasure chest of memories
to recall and relish for later.
''I'm his peace haven''.
He escapes from everything into my arms''.
What a glorious feeling...
He won't talk much about his affairs.
He lets her do most of the talking,
bubbling with news,
sharing her day with him,
her troubles and triumphs.
He won't talk much about his affairs.
But she can tell.
Each time he comes back to her,
she can tell.
Just by looking at his face.
She can tell
whether he had a hard time or not
how stressed or relaxed was his week
or fortnight.
No need for words.
She won't ask either,
letting him do it his way.
She just studies his face
and knows all there is to know .
She doesn't remember much
of the best part of that day.
They took a day trip to that lake
she wanted them to visit.
Except it was raining hard all day,
boat trip was cancelled.
They ended up in a little taverna instead.
Crowded, it was a puplic holiday.
She was unaccustomed
to that particular kind of strong liquor,
got drunk on it .
He had to practically carry her
back to his car.
As sick as a dog she was
and in her drunken stupor
she remembers asking him,
again and again:
''Who are you?''
Each time she asked,
he would give her a different name,
while driving along,
smiling, amused
humoring her,
playing along.
''You have to stop , NOW!'' she said.
He pulled over,
came round to open her door,
held her hair
while she was being sick on the road side.
After that she can't remember much,
except for that dog.
Big brute.
What the heck was a dog doing in the middle of nowhere?
He was friendly with him
but not with her,
kept trying to snap at her hand,
he had to hurry her into the car again.
She fell asleep on his car seat
and he kept driving along.
She woke up still there,
tucked under his coat
him patiently waiting for her.
''I am ruining your life'', he said.
''I should have never come to you in the first place''
He never explained what he meant...
''I like looking at old pictures of you,
but it also makes me kinda sad'', he says.
''Why?''
''Because I wish I had known you
back then too...''
And she melts like butter,
because she feels exactly the same....
Or maybe,
just maybe,
they have known each other
all their lives
and they just met in the physical
a few hundred days ago...
Once upon a time,
when she was a little girl.
she had created
an imaginary retreat of her own.
Her go-to sanctuary of comfort.
She could close her eyes
and there she was:
Small, secluded, cozy
and hidden from the world
huge bed, fluffy bedcovers
lots of pillows, lots of blankets,
she could be her amazing, relaxed self there
she could just indulge and let go....
once upon her real life,
he recreated it for her
an improved replica
of her teenage fantasy retreat
their nest of love and lust
manifested in the real world.
Their private very real
retreat of Love
their portal
to their combined universe
of sexual fun, affection, relaxation
and dreams...
Uphill, uphill he's driving,
uphill, uphill they go.
Into the mist,
towards a famous mountain tourist resort-village.
The winding mountain road
diasppearing into the clouds.
Breathtaking view on both sides.
''Last weekend I was here with friends,''
he explains,
''and it was a really cool place,
but somehow something was missing;
you!''
They stop at a picturesque little village,
traditional stone houses and all,
and a picturesque little cafe
overlooking the valley.
Christmas decorations still on
and heart-shaped cookies with their coffee.
They are looking at eight puppies
that look like like a wolf's pack
venturing into the little square outside.
They are holding hands
and talking
and basking at each other's presence.
Because most beautiful things
are never meant to be enjoyed solo...
''All 's clear'', she says. ''You may come now''.
She hangs up
warms up
some chicken for him,
turns up the heating,
lights up some candles.
Mid-winter
and bitterly cold outside.
Foggy, too.
Dreamlike-foggy,
the kind of foggy you see
in old thriller movies.
He arrives ten minutes later,
his teeth chattering,
shivering from cold,
from having been woken up in the middle of the night
and from walking out in the freezing cold.
She crawls up in bed beside him.
''I'll warm you up in no time, baby...'',
she promises.
And she does...
Countless times have they made love
in front of that old churchyard
in that secluded churchyard
overlooking the small town.
Their favorite spot,
watching the light dimming
all around the wooded hill,
town lights flickering
like enchanted little stars
at their feet in the distance.
And the old fortress church
dating back to the time of knights and heroes,
the old church
with all its saints
silently watching over them,
keeping guard at their back
keeping guard of their dreams....
Tired and sleep deprived,
she finally goes to bed.
And she falls asleep
thinking of his eyes
He once sent her a picture of those eyes,
just his eyes,
because she told him
how much she loved getting lost in them.
But no picture can quite catch
what she adores about him.
His eyes.
The very first thing she noticed about him.
Uncannily intense.
Magnetic.
Piercing,
to the depths of her soul.
Gentle and loving, too.
His eyes.
Windows to an exceptional soul
She's making coffee.
He's just arrived,
smiling and out of breath
from climbing all those flights of chairs.
'Hello foxy!''
Their welcoming kiss-and-hug ritual.
He reaches for something
from the shelf
and she catches a whiff of his smell
that beloved smell of his.
He smells of comfort,
love
and sex
of the particular flavor she likes best.
She nuzzles up to his neck,
a slight catch in her breath,
drinking him in,
instantly affected,
intoxicated,
swaying to and fro from pure pleasure,
because she missed him so...
Come here..'', he whispers in her ear.
her waist cupped in his arms
It's raining softly outside.
Their nest is nice and cozy.
Their Sanctuary.
Lit by a single purple candle only,
and the light of the little electric radiator
buzzing away.
They are snuggling under the warm blankets
cuddling,
holding hands and chatting.
The warm afterglow of love.
''You are probably the only man
in the history of mankind
who's more tender before
rather than after bedding a woman!'', she jokes.
''You'd be surprised, foxy.''
''If you don't have feelings for her,
you feel like kicking her out of bed
as soon as it's over'', he jokes back.
Their three-hour bliss is almost up.
Enough to sustain them.
Until next time....
''I miss you'', she says
''I need you'', is the hidden message he can hear in her voice.
Three hours later,
he calls her:
''Ι' m on my way...''
This is how a true man loves....
with actions....
''Ομορφιά μου'', he tells her.
''My beauty''...
First thing in the morning.
When she's just woken up.
Eyes still bleary from sleep.
Hair in a terrible mess
frightful enough to scare
the brave hairstylist on the face of this planet
Not a speck of makeup on her.
'My beauty''...he tells her.
And she melts like butter on toast...
''Five times five'', he said.
''I dont believe you were counting'',she said.
''I'm not! Oh, ok, I am', he smiles at her.
'Don't tell anyone about it', he advises,
half serious, half joking.
'For one thing, they won't believe you.'
'For another, it's good to protect one's self
from stupid envy'.
''No need to'', she answers back.
''Bliss shows on face,
clearly and eloquently.
Everyone knows ,
at a gut level,
just by looking at us''.
''Our combined light
lights up by example
drab days,
drab towns.
drab lives...''
''Do you Know Why I'm Writing These Stories? ''
she tells him.
Not to tell the world.
(they don't understand anyway,
they think it's too good to be true,
or straight out of a romantic fantasy)
Not to tell you
( you are right here with me .
living it all,
no need to remind you...)
Not to tell me
( as if I could ever forget,
ever....)
I write our story for another reason:
To immortalise a Work of Art
in progress.
All beautiful things in life
are works of art.
And works of art
need to be immortalised.
They deserve it.
And the world needs them.
That ugly, drab, twisted world of today
needs as much Beauty and Love
as it can possibly get.
Too much shortage of it.
''My love,
our Love
spills anonymous blessings
to this world...''
''What is it?''
''What is it that makes me sooo crazy about him?''
She often wonders about that.
Why him?
Why THIS much?
Then the answer comes automatically.
As if in a whisper in her ear:
''Because he is ALWAYS with me.
Always.
Caring.
Loving.
Advicing.
Joking.
Stalking.
Listening.
Caressing.
Touching.
Fucking.
Wiping tears.
Sharing laughs.
Sharing knowledge.
Sharing nonsense.
Sharing life.
Always.
Even when he's miles and miles away.
He still finds a way to do all that
and then some more.
Even if there is a big burden in her heart
and she feels like crying
and hiding from the world
he'll somehow find a way in.
In her heart or mind.
Or both.
Not obtrusively or blatantly.
More like in a 'I'm here if you need me' way.
Day or night.
He is ALWAYS there for her.
Never tires of it.
His stamina in bed only matched
by his emotional endurance superpowers.
''Maybe this is too tiring for you,
maybe you can't stand it...''
he once texted her.
''Maybe it's overwhelming...''
''Let me see if I understad this'', she asks.
''You embody a hero straight out of a romance novel
and you're asking me if I don't like all this attention?''
''Yes. Quite a few grow tired of it.''
''But I' m not like those 'quite a few' '', she says.
Most people are foolish little children
when it comes to love.
They keep asking for new shining toys
then discard them as soon as they have them
lusting after a new toy.
''Not me''
''I never tire of chocolate, love and you.
''I can have tons of chocolate, love and you
and still ask for more''.
''That's MY superpower.''
''Birds of a feather....''
On the occasions
they can spend the night together,
really sleep together,
not just make love,
they have established a routine:
she falls asleep in his arms
her head nestled in his chest
his nose buried in her hair
cheesily romantic
but sooo comforting
for both.
Then, after a while
when it becomes uncomfortable,
they turn back to back
but still needing to touch each other.
If either of them wakes up
in the middle of the night
they move their body closer
to be in full body contact again.
She says:
''I love it when we're spooning
and you have your leg on top of me,
leg hugging is the best.''
He says:
''I love it when you 're asleep
and I have your butt
touching my body''
hedonism, sweet and tender...
They are getting ready for an outing.
She is putting on glittering face stickers.
In many colors.
Around her eyes and between her brows.
He looks up at her.
-''What's that on your face?''
-''Face stickers! Never seen 'em before?''
He laughs. Hard.
''It looks funny, but OK!''
''Funny!'', she's indignant.
''It's sexy!''
But the damn things won't stick properly.
They keep falling off.
'It's because of the make up'', she explains.
''How do all those chicks in pictures
manage to keep 'em in place?''
Then she gives up.
''Oh, why bother?''
''I don't need this shit, anyway.''
''I'm glittering from the inside out when I'm with you!''
Their destination:
a 13th century old cloister.
Driving in a small country road,
winding upwards in the rising hills.
Warm sunshine,
light mood
and a heated car seat for her
because it's still cold
and he likes indulging her
and she loooves it!
Countryside green
alternating between wooded hills
and open meadows.
It seems theirs is the only car
on the road.
Suddenly,
a herd of free range cattle
scattered all over the place
blocking their way,
and a huge bull
standing right in front of their car.
Calm but obstinate,
with the confidence of his bulk
and the defiance of an alfa male
protecting his territory,
not moving an inch
just standing there,
staring at them.
''Now what?'', she wonders.
''They can be dangerous,
once provoked, you know''.
He winds down his car window.
''Hey! Move !''
The bull hears the commad in his voice
and obeys, head down
slowly moving aside
and taking the rest of the herd with him
granting them a pass.
''I was damn scared for a moment,''
she tells him as he drives on.
''That beast was huge.''
''Did you see his enormous balls?''
she adds laughingly.
Then, after some thought:
''...but obviously, your balls are bigger than his!''
''I've always wanted a man
with such muscles
in my bed'', she says
''Broad shoulders and tiny waist''.
''Oh, and let's not forget the cute butt''.
Perfetto...
''I want you to get all dressed up for the occasion'', he texts her.
''And by getting dressed up,
I don't mean anything that involves a tutu!''
She laughs.
''OK, no tutus. I promise.''
''He 's planning on showing me off'', she tells herself.
Let's give him something to be really proud of.''
They are getting ready to leave.
He ,impeccably groomed in black,
is now inspecting her chosen outfit.
Velvet two-piece,
in the colour of fine milk chocolate
short, fitted jacket and cropped trousers
matched with a pink top and leather brown knee-high boots
her long hair streightened to sleek perfection,
the upper layers in light blonde,
the under streaks caramel brown.
''Turn around'', he is taking a better look.
''Perfect, now off we go!''
Their venue, downtown in the city
at the heart of its historical center
looks not-too-promising for finding a parking space.
But he has it all arranged.
People right in front of the premises
barricading a parking space for him
with upholstered, old-fashioned chairs.
''Now, that's what I call giving us the VIP treatment,''
she jokes.
''Let's go grab a cup of coffee
at that nice cafe
before they get me ready'', he suggests.
Then she is sitting in the front row
he is up there
on stage
doing his thing
and she tries not to look him in the eye
trying hard not to lock eyes with him.
Of course he noticed,
being the observant kind he is
and he commented, afterwards
''You kept avoiding eye contact''
''Didn't want to stress you out'',
she repied and he laughs
''I am never stressed out''!
Then, at one moment
he manages to catch her eye
at last
her looking up at him, smiling, clapping
and he looks down at her from up there
winking at her
grinning
a joyous,
mischievous,
conspiratory smile
that she'll never forget
for as long as she lives,
making her smile too
each and every time she recalls it.
That's one of the perks you get
for loving a playful man
behind the serious facade
a naughty little boy at heart.
She loves the excitement in his voice
when they are discussing plans
for his upcoming visit.
''He is looking forward to it'', she says to herself.
''Baby, I'm gonna make it worth your while,
just as much as you make it worth mine....''
''I'll be coming to see you again this week'',
he said
when they were about to part.
She was still dazed and hazy
disoriented
and a bit undone
from too much lovemaking
after their first weekend together.
She didn't have time to analyse,
rationalise,
ponder over things
or think about anything remotely related
with a continuation of all this.
She was too busy
drinking in the sensations.
But he said he'd be coming over...
She looks at him
''Yes!'' , she hears herself saying
grateful,
ever so grateful
he wouldn't let her miss him
or wait by the phone...
Then here he is again
this time in her hometown
car wheels screeching,
car window rolled down,
flashing his gorgeous smile at her
and that overwhelming sensation of joy
tells her,
beyond a shadow of a doubt,
that yes, she missed him so!
She greets him,
gets in his car
and as he is driving down the road
he shows her:
a long strand of her hair
tied around the gear shift
like some kind of magic ribbon
or talisman of choice...
''I found it in our room when you left...''
he explains, almost coyly.
Then her heart swells with emotion
for that rare treasure of a man.
''I have always been a lucky girl'',
she reminds herself
mentally grinning from ear to ear
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