Finding Ourselves In The Dark

Music, check.

                  Lingerie, check.

                  Candles, check.

                  What am I missing?

         Marisol performs a mental inventory while trying to recall how a seduction is supposed to look. She looks around her boudoir, trying to still her pulse and staunch the nausea rising like lava in her stomach and throat. Marisol takes two slow, deep breaths, making sure to breathe down to her navel, as her Yoga Instructor always reminds the class. Back to the task at hand, Marisol realizes that, based on her rusty recollection, all the basics are here, but something still feels off.

         “Alexa, turn up the volume,” she calls out to the empty room.

         “Ok, turning up the volume to 18,” comes the feminine robotic voice in response. Luther Vandross’s crooning vocals melt like butter through the speaker:

          “Let me hold you tight/If only for one night.”

         How appropriate, Marisol grins to herself. Confident that her “SEXY SONGS” playlist will continue streaming, she leaves the volume up and moves on to the next item on her checklist. Marisol stands in front of the full-length mirror behind her bedroom door, steeling herself for the image reflecting back to her. Self-conscious as she feels, barely covered in black and red lace, barefoot and exposed, she has to admit that her curvaceous figure fills out the sheer nightie in all the right places. This get-up will definitely stop him in his tracks, she giggles to her mirror-image twin.

An extra bounce in her step and her heart beating rapidly, in anticipation rather than anxiety now, she moves to the jasmine-infused candles flickering on the nightstands. Jasmine, her favorite fragrance, is like an aphrodisiac for her with its heady floral notes. Marisol takes in the scent, lets out an involuntary, Mmmm, and transports back to a time when jasmine had quite the effect on both of them. Lost in her reverie, she doesn’t notice the clock change. She is back in another time and place, the smell of jasmine in her nostrils from a different candle altogether. Their first (and last, to date) romantic adventure was not planned in such excruciating detail as the current one—it was entirely impromptu.

One minute they were chatting amicably, as usual, and suddenly, they found themselves in one another’s arms, fully entrenched in a passionate, exploratory kiss. Their clothes found their way to the floor before either of them were aware of their nudity. Once mindful of their exposed flesh, they were hungry to caress with their eyes and take in every nuance by touch. It was inevitable—they had both felt it, deep down,  so neither even tried to resist the magnetic pull they experienced since the day they met (a decade ago) any longer, despite the forbidden union. Each with their own partners, and partners who knew each other, it was not uncommon for the four of them to go out on the town. It was torturous!

Shaking herself back to the present time and space, Marisol experienced the heartache of defying the desires of her body, of her soul all those years, plus the past year and a half, out of sheer guilt over what they had done. She could no longer deny how she felt, physically and emotionally—she’s been lying to him and to herself this whole time. Tonight she would show him not only how much she wants him, but how much she truly loves him, always has. Tonight has to be just perfect! So, what is she missing? What would make tonight that special? Rose petals on the bed, perhaps? She may enjoy that, but he could care less about rose petals and probably would end up swiping them away anyway.  Plus, nothing should compete with the Jasmine aroma.

Suddenly, it came to her—just the right thing to set the mood. Glancing at the clock, realizing that he would be leaving work and would call any moment to let her know that he was on his way, she knew that her timing had to be impeccable. Marisol busied herself with the tasks at hand, not allowing time to get nervous or impatient.

**********

         Rick lets himself into Marisol’s cozy cottage home, as she instructed over the phone a bit ago. He immediately flipped the light switch in the kitchen, then again, but with no reward. Dimly lit with a candle, the room was cast in shadows.

“Hey, Mari,’” he called out to the darkened house, “Your kitchen light is out. Probably just the bulb. I’m gonna take a look.”

“No, leave it for now,” her voice floats toward him like a butterfly in mid-flight. “Grab the candle and come find me.”

That is all the temptation he needs. The broken light has completely gone from his mind; he does exactly as he is told. 

“Mmmm, Jasmine,” he mutters aloud, smiling, remembering, anticipating, as he picks up the scented candle.

Curiously, he finds the hallway leading to her bedroom lined with Jasmine candles. What, did they lose power here or something? I wonder why?  

Marisol calls out, “I’m waiting…”

Rick wastes not another second, kicking off his shoes as he heads down the hallway and toward her bedroom door, which he can see is slightly ajar. Before he can see her, he hears her singing softly along with Al Green coming over her Alexa speaker. 

As he enters her room, ablaze with candlelight, he catches sight of her, propped up on the bed in the soft glow, and falls head over heels all over again. Her long, curly brown hair, now white-streaked in certain places, frames her face with its deep brown-black eyes and full lips. He allows his eyes to travel down, taking in the outfit she picked out, especially for him. He takes his time appreciating her choice—how it contours her sexy body.

         “Are you going to just stand there or are you coming over here?” Marisol chides. 

         “Just taking in the amazing scenery,” Rick retorts, his voice dripping with passion.

         “Well, get over here for a close-up,” Marisol challenges.

Few decipherable words were spoken for quite some time after that command. Once their bodies reconnected, they took over, and their lovemaking was passionate and intense while remaining tender and loving.

After over an hour, both of them grinning as if their faces were stuck, the art of speech returned. They discussed their days—she at her home-based business, he at the job site. When the conversation turned more intimate, she almost panicked and veered from the plan, but she found the courage, somehow, likely in his amber eyes. Absent-mindedly stroking his ample chest hair and defined biceps, she told him that she wanted to apologize for lying to him. She certainly had his attention as he sat up and solemnly prodded, “You lied to me? About what?”

Crushed by the pained look that had instantly claimed his handsome face, she quickly blurted it out (NOT part of the plan), “I’ve been lying to myself all along too. I don’t expect you to return the feelings, but I love you—I always have! And I’m in love with you, too!” Looking relieved, Rick grinned, ran a finger up and down the length of her arm, and said, “I’m not good with saying the “L” word, even with the family. But, if it were in my vocabulary, I’d be throwing that “L” word all around you.  You get me?”  “’ Nuff said,” Marisol replied, and they held each other for a while before he just couldn’t stop thinking about those damn lights. He was more of a ‘show how you feel than tell about it’-kind-of-guy—and he showed it by taking care of people he loved, and being there for them. Anything Marisol needed, he’d do for her in a heartbeat!

“So, what happened to the lights?"

Smirking mischievously, she simply answered, “I did!”