Promises, Promises

I’m excited. I’ve been waiting all day. I didn’t have work and am overprepared. I shuffle my feet now in the station, knowing it’s a bit much. Maybe I’m too done. My hair is a little too done. Maybe I’m too much. I don’t know. I’m excited. I said that already.

There you are. I see you arrive with all the other commuters shuffling on to end of day destinations. You’re looking for me amongst the others and I crane my neck, left then right, to catch your eye.

Smile. When you see me you smile like I’m the only one here. You smile so wide and real, the smile that reaches your eyes. You smile like I’m not too much. I can feel your smile in my toes. I smile too. Lopsided and half shy.

You’ve reached me now and pulled me into a hug. You’re slightly damp from the rain coat pressed to my cheek and I can hear your heart beneath the wool. Steady and strong. Everything else has fallen away. I’m so excited.

You’ve brought me home. You’re never nervous. You’re not anything but confident. It’s a turn-on. Your authority. The command of your space. It’s soothing and comforting to me. It makes me feel safe. I know whatever we do here is just for us. That’s freeing. You make me free.

We meander about in a routine. A freshen up, a scratch with the dog, a quick meal of something popped into the oven. Throughout, our soft sighs and silence crackle with anticipation and need. I think I can barely stand it any longer. “Can dinner wait?” I half whine. “I promised,” you plainly reply.

Dinner is served and consumed in very short order. I sat as close to you as you’d allow. I watched your face as you talked about your day. As you asked me about my day. Your eyes are so warm when you speak to me. They traverse my face as you become more animated, the palm of your hand running under the table and caressing my leg. Even when I try to look away, even to collect my thoughts, they never break contact. Your blue irises are like stars, making me the center of the universe. I am so excited. “Can dessert wait?,” I lament. “But I promised,” is your reply.

Time passes and I don a too big apron and wash up. My shoes have been discarded, I think my hair is getting frizzy, and my lipstick is surely ruined. You hum as we do this and I am lulled into a state of forgetfulness or too tipsy on drinks to push out beyond my once abundant excitement. I am relaxed here in this bubble.

As I stare out the window into the night you appear behind me and smile that smile. As a reflection, I watch as you push aside my hair and lean over into my ear, “I promised. It’s time.” I melt. “You promised,” I whisper and nod. You promised.

In the bedroom now I feel so small but very ready. I think. Doubt can not creep in. There is no space for it. But I sit at the edge of the bed. Twiddle my thumbs. Excited.

The soft click of the door and there you are. Imposing but soft. You are my dream. And if you are a dream I don’t want to wake. I won’t wake, the physical euphoria of this moment is too much to give up, in any form.

Stepping in between my legs I have no choice but to look up.

“What did I promise?”

I let out a breath.

Again. “What did I promise?”

I gaze up. And in a flurry,

“You promised to take care of me.

      You promised to take all I freely give.

      You promised to cherish it.

      You promised to make me yours.”

“Do you believe those promises?”

I think I’m shaking. I know I feel tears in the corner of my eyes. As my excitement finally spills over into the love I have, my heart overflows.

“I believe them.”

“Why?”

“You promised. You promised.”

You palm my cheek and catch my tear. And as you do your other hand fumbles a little with your belt and pulls it free of its confines. I watch. Mesmerizing. I watch your hand holding the belt push me back on to the bed, til all I see is the ceiling.

A view that is replaced by your sure and true body. “You promised,” I barely murmur.

“What do you promise me?”

I’m quizzical. Why are you asking me? Don’t you know? You don’t know. But you must. You have to know. All this. All the promises. All the expectancy of our bodies. Our minds.

I smile. “Don’t you know?”

“I give you my heart.

       I promise you all of me.

       I promise you.”

I see you crack open. I feel you grow powerful. All you promised to me, I return to you.

And you whisper words that make us fly.

“I promise to ruin you. I promise to own you. I promise to break you. I promise to put you together again.”

And I promise to let you.

Let’s begin.

K/ x