Dancing in the rain

It was such a long day without you. You were at a thing with friends until evening. I had an appointment, so I couldn’t go with. I missed you more than usual. I trace your steps around the house, touch your clothes, tap my finger on your perfume, lay on your side of the bed, squeeze your pillow. All to no avail. I can’t conjure you. You’re all around me, but you’re not here. 

I look at my phone. I missed a notification. You’re on your way! You’ve been sitting all day, you say, so would I like a walk? Would I like a walk? With my beautiful lady? Yes, a walk, and everything else. 

I hear you at the door, but if I bound to you like a golden retriever, I will lose my cool. I wait half a minute, look up, and you’ve found me. An urgent look is on your face. I smile. Goodness, woman, you look good. I like it when you get dressed up. Tonight is no different. We look mismatched because I’m dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. Now we are out the door. 

The sky looks ominous, but we don’t notice because we are talking about your day, my appointment. There is static in the air. Something is hanging, waiting; the air is pregnant. We are two miles from home when the storm hits. Big, hard raindrops, thunder. We look at each other like the thought never occurred to us. We are racing to the house, soaked but laughing. After a mile of running, I pull you under a tree, look down at your glistening skin. Your makeup is running. I’ve never seen you like this. It’s striking. My hands are up and down your back and I’m kissing you hard. You don’t mind. Your hands are on my chest, up my neck, in my hair. “Let’s go,” I blurt. You push me away and dance a little wiggle, teasing me for my impatience. Your eyes tell me you share those feelings. 

We hit the door, turn, and see the storm is intensifying, both in the sky and inside us. We drip all the way to the laundry room where we strip. The ridiculousness of the evening finally hits us, with our socks still on and laughing. I pull you giggling into my chest. It feels so good to feel your warmth. You feel how turned on I am, wrap your arms around my neck, kiss me, and your legs are around me now. Looking for a place to land, I settle on the running dryer. The banging sounds coming from the laundry room the next 20 minutes could be heard on the street. Tiring from the awkward position, I grab your hand and pull you into the bedroom. You’re on top of me and ready for your turn as I slap your butt. 

Your throttle is set to go. I am ready to pop, but I hold on. You ride me hard until your hips start grinding and you lean forward into me. I always wonder where your mind goes at the end. When you climax, are you here with me? Are you back in your homeland, your childhood backyard, babushka’s dacha? You slide next to me and let me finish too. We are already in a cuddling position. And then I think about all those raindrops that pelted us. You and me come from different places, just like those raindrops. It took us a long time to get here. We mingled together, molecularly became one. One moment we are here, dancing in the rain, and the next … well, we don’t know. But I hope we get to do this over and over. And maybe someday you’ll tell me where you go at the end. Because I want to be there too.