mona lisa man

the faint echo of footsteps … and, i … drawn … by some invisible, magnetic force … found myself walking into the sound … unsure of why, or what or who … i could feel it … growing stronger as i drew nearer … intoxicating … intense … and, then …

the tangy, piquish aroma of Brut. he wore a fresh, crisp uniform, complete with 4-bar epaulets and silver wings… a pilot … a tall, brooding character with a luscious head of silver-splattered, dark curls and intensely glacial green eyes, he flashed me a mona lisa smile. i savoured it like velvety brandy. i stood facing him… motionless … holding my breath … and reached into the depths of his honey-flecked green irises with my own gaze…

so close … close enough to smell, touch … taste him. yet, so much of him remained hidden from my view, lurking amid the soft shadows of the curves in his face. his expression eluded me. a, vague, mysterious, yet strangely … intimately … familiar aura oozed from his pores … captivating … enchanting … i found myself breathless. my heart galloped … desire sat, like a stone, in my throat …

silence … soothing … unobtrusive … we, each unable, or unwilling, to utter a single sound. his touch, filled with warmth and gentle certitude, sent a shiver down my spine and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. our breathing … in unison now. i interlock the fingers of my cold, alabaster hand with his long, sinewy fingers. we walk through the nearest door …

utility closet: i, back against the cold steel door, swept into his torrential intensity … bound, by some hynotic, familiar force. he, gently gliding his fingertips along my bare arms, following each curve, each undulation … painting his touch onto my skin. he fingered the diamond on my wedding set, then bending slightly, kissed my hand. he closed his eyes as his lips brushed against the back of my hand and his warm, gentle breath soaked into my skin. a sigh - his - of tender longing, as i touch his cheek tentatively with my fingertips.

the hush of his breath through my hair sent tingles surging through my body as he scattered tiny kisses along my throat. silent … breathing in unison … spellbound … peeling away layers of clothing, revealing delicate, ripe flesh. pulsing … throbbing flesh. pressed against each other now - skin against skin. i could feel his heart beating, as if in search of mine.

skin against skin … surge … electrifying … i, a vessel, feel him inside me … throbbing, engorged … he fills my cavern with his sweet, milky essence. i, holding my breath, waiting to exhale … rapture … along with the slow, soft trickle of infinitesmal beadlets of sweat. panting … breathless … silent …

we carefully pieced ourselves back together, layer upon layer. silence remained. a thick, hot passion lingered, an after-effect of our brief, but intensely intimate fusion. we stood, studying each other, in suspended animation. i tried to memorize each line, each curve, each shadow of his face … to keep an etching of him in my soul. we parted with a kiss.

pangs of guilt soaked into me, like a slow, steady rain, as i sat in my plane seat, reading a piece in some daily british rag about John Major’s extramarital affair. the irony did not escape me. reality settled upon me like a thick, soupy fog. guilt … corroding my consciousness … guilt … i felt as though each beat of my heart told the tale … though my husband seemed blissfully ignorant … and … why shouldn’t he be, i told myself.

i sensed the rise of quiet contemplation and controlled anticipation in my husband as he fingered the outline of his Camel pack through his shirt pocket. i could see the wheels turning - he pondered seeing his brother for the first time in a decade. i could feel the anticipation bubbling … foaming … frothing … as the plane began its descent toward our quaint, mediterranean destination …

butterflies … panic … swept into a throng of human cargo, pressed into the aisle of the small plane and down its steep, narrow steps … nervous …pit of my stomach … wild anticipation … we make our way across the tarmac and into the tiny, two-storey terminal building. customs … luggage claim … frenzied excitement clings to me … stifling me … the guilt, it falls away …

in the moment i cast my gaze downward to flick my wild mane over my shoulder, i heard the rustle of an embrace as the two brothers pecked each other on the cheek. still looking at the speckled floor, i felt it again … intoxicating, intense … but … how …? nothing could prepare me for what i saw when i cast my eyes on my brother-in-law: the intense, glacial green eyes … and … that smile … elusive … vague … my mona lisa man …

to be continued …