Senses

I choose not to open my eyes. For most of us, vision is so much the predominant sense that it swamps all other impressions. So I choose to limit my world to the six inches or so I can see through the lace curtains of my eyelashes with more than half-closed eyes. We had gone to bed as the morning sun cast the first long shadows across the lawn, and made love to the sound of the dawn chorus. We slept in each others arms and woke to a light somewhat akin to a blast furnace streaming in through the skimpily-curtained bedroom window signalling another glorious sunny day.

We made love again. Fell asleep again. Woke again with our bodies dappled by the sunlight shining through the newly-sprung leaves of the trees outside.

Sunday. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to see. We lay as we had fallen asleep, jumbled together across the bed, a corner of a kicked-off duvet pulled up to give a little extra snugness.

I feel her. I feel her warmth, the roundness of her shoulders and of her breasts. I feel her cheek brushing against mine. I hold her close and feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes rhythmically, contentedly.

I hear her too. Hear her breathing. Not quite asleep and not quite awake. The drawing of breath occasionally punctuated by quiet little moans. I hear birdsong in the trees, a squirrel pattering across the corrugated roof above our heads, I hear seagulls and, in the distance, the rasp of the eternal Sunday lawnmower.

I taste her. I can just barely touch her shoulder with the tip of my tongue to savour the saltiness I find there. But more than that, as I lick around my lips I can still taste traces of her left on me from the excesses of a few hours ago.

I smell her, and me. The smell of our juices that flowed so freely when I used her willing body as my playground. I bring my fingertips to my nose and breathe in her lingering musky essence. I bury my face in her shoulder again and am soothed by the natural aroma of her skin.

It’s nearly noon. We are both awake, have been for what seems like hours, but neither of us want to speak.

Neither of us wants to be the first to break the spell.