THE LADY iN MY LiFE

The one that fulfilled my fantasy of fawning before f*cking

There are many things I miss about her. I miss the way she would poke her head in once she heard me stirring in the bedroom. She’d have the biggest grin as she would take her glasses off and dive under the covers with me. In her sing song voice she’d always ask me the same question, “what took you so long? I’ve been up for hours, missing you.”

I miss the way she’d dance in the kitchen while making dinner: the bossa nova playing, her taking sips of vinho verde and how she’d squeal when I’d come over to kiss her on the neck. I’d ask her to tell me about her day and she’d oblige—with the occasional dance break, the occasional flourish, the occasional tasting of the sauce.

I miss how she’d leave me poems written and illustrated in crayon on the fridge. Colors and collages and words creating a symphony that left me in awe, lavished in love and adorned with her artistry. Then I’d answer her with my own poem, written on my typewriter. When I’d get home later she’d shower me with kisses and we’d tell each other what we loved most about each other’s writing. What we loved most about one another. What we loved most about being together.

I miss how she’d put her little ballet slippers together and then turn her knees inwards and stick out her upper lip when she wanted me to go to the grocery store and pick up some ice cream for her. She didn’t need to do that—I was at her beck and call but it was the playful back and forth that fed us. I’d come back with some flowers as well and her eyes would well up and she’d melt into me as I hugged her.

But there’s a particular night I miss the most. I had a fantasy, a fantasy I had been harboring since I was a teenager, new to sexual thoughts. I can’t explain how or why it was placed in me, but I always carried it. And I had never brought it up before, but with her I knew I could.

You see there was nothing strange about this fantasy, nothing taboo, nothing controversial. In many ways...it was the opposite.

Bathed under the moonlight, tipsy from a dinner and drinks date on a warm Saturday in May I revealed my fantasy to her. She giggled and kissed me on the cheek. Her only response was that she wished I had told her sooner. Even in my drunken confidence I felt vulnerable sharing it with her. Her acceptance of it, as inevitable as it was, brought me a deep, rich sigh.

The following day I went into the office in the afternoon, hoping to get ahead on the week’s work. She texted me a few hours in asking when I thought I would get home.

“Mmmmm another hour I’d say”

“Okay so two hours”

She knew me too well. A few minutes later she followed up with a photo of her in our golden mirror, the one tilted on the table by the front door. She had on a the tiniest black little nightgown and let the photo cut off at her lips. Yes mam, I’ll be rushing home now.

I tried to concentrate on my work but 15 minutes later I texted her that I was on the way. Who gives a fuck about work? She simply hearted my message. I felt like she was a fisherman reeling me in. The entire train ride home I was doing my best to cover my lap. I practically skipped down the steps.

When I got off the elevator I could smell the lasagna. I could hear the soft thrum of the bassline, the tender vocals drifting in. I took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob.

She stood there in her nightgown, lighting the blue spiral candle on the table. She took her time in lighting it and then looked up at me, her eyes soft and knowing, her smile slowly spreading across her face. She held her arms out beckoning me and I closed in and took her hands, kissing her up her arm until I simply pulled her in and we began to kiss, slowly at first, but harder and harder until I had one of her legs up, my hand supporting it and her back against the wall. She kissed me on my neck and I let out a small moan. Then she led me to the couch and pushed me down. The room was dimly lit, only the candle and the final rays of the sunset illuminating our scene.

I slouched on the couch, my back on the seat, my head propped up on the cushion. She began to slowly sway back and forth, just across the carpet. I was hypnotized. She lingered between silhouette and the ballerina figurine that pops out of those old school music boxes. Most importantly I could see her face, that beautiful kind face I was a slave to. She had a calm expression. We had all the time in the world and all the trust and all the energy.

I began to compliment her. Everything about her. Not just what I loved about her in the moment, but I went back, all the way back, to the things that first drew me to her. I showered her with praise, with adoration, with obsession, with flirtation, with devotion, with the recollection of all the details that made me fall to my knees and worship her over and over. I took my time, I sat there intoxicated by her and let the compliments form in my head and drift out in a low voice and wash over her. The song looped over and over. She kept her same rhythm, her same movements, but took off her nightgown after the first play through, her thong after the second, and by the time it got to the third there was only her lace socks to take off. She had been slowly sauntering over to me and at this point was dancing in between my spread legs.

I slowly traced my hands up her swaying thighs and around to cup her behind. I made sure not to restrict her movement, simply to ride her waves with her. I looked up at her and told her over and over how much I loved her, everything about her. She nodded along and put her hands on her chest as she closed her eyes and felt the music through her, felt my love course through her veins. I gently kissed her stomach. She slowed her swaying and ran her fingers through my hair. I looked up at her and she looked down at me and the rest was love.

Afterwards we laid in bed, her head on my chest, and I stuck my nose in her hair as I concentrated on the outro still playing faintly in the living room.

(Ooh, girl, let me keep you warm)

I want to give you all

(You are the lady in my life)

In my life

(Fill you with the sweetest love)

Let me feel you baby

(Always the lady in my life)

All over, all over, all over

(Lay back in my tenderness)

Lay back with me

(You are the lady in my life)

Let me touch you, girl

(Rock me with your sweet caress)

Lay back with me

(Always the lady in my life)