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I am at his place of dwelling. I can see the way he lives, works, sleeps, eats and plays. It's all messy and organized. It feels so lazy and familiar, it's a lot like my own. I'm nervous, I'm afraid of saying something stupid or be caught in an embarrassing act. There's that odd silly moment when we're both queasy and shy. All he can ask if I am comfortable.

We finally get into bed and under the covers and watch a romantic art movie together. Mini-stories of love. Different types of love, different life-stages of love. We spent hours in bed just looking at each other. Our hands had minds of their own caressing each other's skin.

This feeling of warmth and skin on skin is driving me crazy and I sink into the bottomless pit of his affection willingly.

-Cheryl

Wouldn't that be a great day?