There was a cool breeze blowing the curtains. She could almost smell the rain that would begin falling before morning. She settled the white fabric of her gown around her on the bed and picked up the scented lotion. Everything had to be perfect for her love.
“My love” she chuckled. She still wasn’t sure what to think of him. What to call him. What do you call the man that invades your dreams every night? The man who makes you feel more alive than any other? The man whose face was always in shadows.
She still remembered the first dream of him. Sitting in the garden in the dark. Hearing his voice. Feeling his hand touch hers so gently. The loneliness that had pulled at her like quicksand gone for those few moments. Feeling like there was fresh air to breath instead of drowning in her aloneness. She regretted waking to face reality.
The next night she again dreamt of the garden. He was there. They talked and laughed and he held her hand. As the sun was starting to peek over the horizon, he had her close her eyes. She smelled a fragrance that was uniquely him. Then, she felt his lips graze her cheek. The softest touch but it had run through her body like a jolt of electricity setting her nerve endings on fire.
Again the following night she met him in the garden. There was a tension in the air that had not been there before. With every breeze she shuddered as though the wind was his fingers trailing over her arms, along her neck. She longed for the feel of his lips, the soft whisper of his breath on her skin. When he had her close her eyes to kiss her cheek, she reached up to gently cup his jaw, holding him for a second longer.
He hesitated and she was instantly afraid that she had crossed some imaginary line or pushed some imaginary boundary too far. Then he slid his lips, so soft, so full, across her cheek to settle on her own lips, parted and waiting. Everything about him, his touch, his smell, his taste, were instantly familiar, like the smell of home or the taste of sweetness. They gave themselves over to a kiss that was more than the melding of two mouths. It was the marriage of two souls. It was two parts of the same heart welcoming each other home.
She had dreamt of him every night since. His voice and touch and smell were all dear to her now. He was her love, her lover. She hurried through each day longing for the hours with him. It was as though the day light hours were wasted in longing for the night. As if she were willing the sun to no longer shine so that she could have more hours with the moon.
But tonight would be different. Tonight she knew she would see his face, see the lips that held her captive, see the long, slender fingers that touched not just her body, but her very essence. She had waited so long to be his. That’s why she took such pains to be ready. Fresh from the bath, scented lotion, her hair down in curls like he liked it. She lit the jasmine scented candles and opened the curtains to allow the breeze in more fully. Tonight was their night.
She turned off the lights and laid back, anxious to join him. Her love. The man of her dreams. She closed her eyes with a smile, as she put the gun to her head. Tonight….