My Tree House

An All Day Affair

Early morning light filters through the bedroom window as she is awakened by soft kisses on the nape of her neck and the arm that has wrapped her in an all night embrace slowly caresses the length of her body; strong hands slowly tracing the curve of her hip into her stomach and eventually finding the softness of her breasts. He cups it in his hand like fresh tree ripened fruit, enjoying the softness and the slowly hardening center. She turns her head slightly and kisses him slowly, tenderly as if they had all the time in the world. Slowly they part reluctantly imagining the promise of what could be but there are kids to awaken, feed and get off to school.

They dress for the day and go about the business of family and work. They share secret glances across the chatter of children and they touch as often as they can. The loving pat across her backside as he takes the garbage out, she slips her hand under his shirt as she reaches around him into the refrigerator for milk. On the chance that they meet in the hallway they exchange a quick kiss or a fleeting caress. He tells her he’ll miss her as they part for the day. He stares longingly as she pulls in her leg, intentionally uncovered accidentally by skirt left askance, as she gets in her car. He leans in for a final kiss before she pulls from the driveway.

At days end when the kids have been collected and they are all together again, they hug and kiss as if years had passed. The kids pretend to be repulsed, but secretly pleased to see their parent’s love.

When homework is done, dinner has been served, the kitchen cleaned and the kids put to bed, the day is not quite over yet. There is still work to be done. He whispers to her, “I want to paint you”. She smiles knowingly and walks into their bedroom. He walks into his study to wait.

She arrives a few minutes later, her hair down, her body freshly scrubbed, wrapped in a silky robe. She pauses by the couch with her back to him and slowly gazes back with an “are you ready?” look. He quickly signals that he is and she lets the robe slide off her body as she crawls onto the sofa and lies on her stomach. She wriggles as she finds that comfortable spot where her body is relaxed outstretched and she turns her head slightly to look back at him. He runs his eyes along the length of her body from her toes to her head. He gets up and walks towards her and brushes her face as he moves a tendril of her hair out of the way. He trails his fingers along her backside until he reaches her toes. He cups her feet in both hands and with a gentle squeeze he places them just so. He retreats back to his seat and finds his special brush.

Soft music playing in the background, he slowly glides his brush across the canvas. She feels each brushstroke across her back. She can tell, looking at his eyes, which part of her he is painting. She aches from the flutters she feels across her body as his eyes skim every part of her. She doesn’t have long to wait. He too is consumed by the need to touch her skin, hold her, and kiss every part of her. The night darkens and grows deep. The world is asleep.