Fan blades whir overhead, breathing gusts of wind on my salt-encrusted eyelashes. I feel the air pulse so deliciously against our two languid bodies, legs tangled up in the sheets like anemones peeking from the reef. We have brought the ocean with us, and sand weighs down the crevices of the sheets underneath us just as salt weights my hair, makes it stiff and wild. Like seaweed.
I feel as though I were a mermaid, and he...not a merman, but Atlantis.
I turn to look at him, where he sprawls. A massive figure, carved out of marble, sun-baked Davidian sculpture. His face is heartbreaking, ethereally perfect, with its heavily fringed eyelashes, its carved cheekbones, straight nose, cupids bow mouth and strong jaw. He is the most beautiful thing, and here on this trip, on this island where I have hidden myself away from the world for three months, he is my palace.
My wandering fingers bridge the gap between us to touch his muscled forearm. He twitches slightly in his sleep, reaches out across open waters to clasp me to him. I let him tow me across the expanse, giggling delightedly as he folds me into his arms. His strong, solid chest presses to mine. I breathe out my content, and examine the architecture of his chiseled collarbones with the air of a true enthusiast.
My Atlantis is here, in this solid fortress of flesh. A safe haven not of four walls, but of solid arms, a strong back, a warm chest. Of sleepy sea-green eyes and a dimpled smile, of the curve of two bodies rolling together like sandy dunes. Of a deep, warm voice seeping into my ear like the bend and pull of the ocean at the shore.
Our feet skip across the sands of Hawaii, but my true vacation is in this world apart, in this four-poster bed, in our fortress of delicious solitude.
Created: Jul 26, 2012BelleDameSansMerci Document Media