The Exotic Woman Book 2, Part Deux

An Irrational Dream continues...

My feet started moving of their own volition, walking directly over to where she sat, willing me to come to her with her eyes.  I felt as if I had no control.  I arrived to stand in front of her and reached down and took her proffered hand.  “Her skin is like silk”, I thought as I helped her to stand.  As she did, I took her other hand in mine and looked deeply into those dark eyes.  “What am I doing?” in wonder, I gently pulled her to me.   I leaned toward her, intending to kiss those scarlet lips. Just as our lips were about to touch, she lifted her head so that I kissed her chin.  Startled, I jerked back with a question on my face.  She chuckled low in her throat, lips curled in a smile.  She then let my hands go and took my head in hers and pulled our lips together.  An electric spark literally exploded fireworks in my brain.  The sweet fruity taste of the ruby lipstick filled my head, temporarily overpowering the clean, womanly aroma of her skin.  I wanted to crush her body to me, full length, welded together lips to knees; one hot, seething nuclear power-plant of desire.

            I held myself in check, I don’t know how, and pressed my lips back to hers a bit firmer and opened slightly.  She didn’t respond at first so I let the tip of my tongue caress her soft, scarlet lips and as she relaxed, our tongues touched in the real duel of love.  When our lips had first met, my eyes had closed in reflex to the bliss that had spread through out me.  As our kiss deepened, my eyes opened and found her looking at me, eyes dark, deep, and unfathomable.   Who knew what thoughts were flashing in their depths.

            As the desire in both of us increased to just this side of unbearable, our hands started roaming in a more passionate embrace of…how to describe what this was.  Out of nowhere, a rough hand grabbed my shoulder and jerked me away from this woman, rudely pulling our lips apart, leaving a tingling, yearning, coldness where only heat had been before.  As I stumbled back from the force of the hard treatment, my right arm drew back in an instinctive, defensive act, fist clenched hard, ready to pound the intruder.  “Get away from my woman!” this stranger’s harsh voice ground out.  “What in the hell are you doing?” he asked of her.

            The woman stepped in between, preventing us coming at each other.  My clenched fist ached to drive through the stranger’s face, it vibrated with the effort to restrain it.  The woman looked at me, shook her head slightly and turned to the stranger.  She grasped his hand and turned to go.  He turned and muttering threats, dragged this beautiful woman off like so much baggage.

            I watched them go; the clenched fist relaxed and my arm dropped to my side.  The stranger and the woman swept through the exit doors and at last, she turned and looked straight at me.  Her lips that had so recently held mine in an embrace of love mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”  Silently spoken, loudly received.  My shoulders slumped and my head drooped so that I was looking at my shoes.  “Oh my God Mike, who was that woman?”  Marla asked.  I looked back at the empty doorway, sorrow on my face, “I don’t know, but she called my name.”