Brush Strokes

Over and over I heard the wisp of his brush and over and over I felt it against my skin. I wanted only to be that which he created and yet I wanted everything else as well. I needed to feel him now and soon or for certain I would be lost. And then I heard his brush slide back into the jar that was set on the small table next to his easel. I heard as he sighed and as moved away from his work and he moved to me. I felt him then. His hand on the small of my back, and then down my leg. I lifted my feet for him as he gently bade me with touch, one then the other as he eased the heels from my feet. He leaned in and kissed the back of one knee and I kept my eyes closed as I accepted these small gifts of gentleness. My hands I did not move until he did so for me, easing my arms down to my sides. My head and body he turned back to straight as he moved in front of me. He ran his hands down my naked trembling body then and I let all the tension go and fell against him. He was strong and took the weight of me easily. He held me close and kissed the few tears that fell down my cheeks.

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