Golden Ages

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It has been said that the hottest fires burn the brightest, and also that they burn out the fastest, leaving only wisps of smoke and an unsatisfied feeling of regret for time lost. True? I doubt it.

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It was at sunset when she meant the most to him.

They sat, always the same, on the porch outside her room. He brushed her hair and pinned it back, careful to keep the curls lying flat against the nape of her neck. She had always kept it like this when she had been able to care for it herself. Now, like so many other things, he did it for her.

She had a beautiful neck; it was one of the first things that attracted him to her. He could still remember the first time he saw her. It was her neck that he saw. More precisely it was her throat, rising gracefully from the high lace collar of her fitted blouse. She was selling kisses at a booth. Fund- raising for something or other. That was the second thing that attracted him. She was always trying to help. Great causes, small causes,famine in Africa, kittens in the pound. It didn't matter. Downtrodden, bedridden, cold, hungry. She wasn't picky about her causes.

$1.00 a kiss. He went broke that night.

Oh, how he wanted her that night. She kissed him, the $1.00 kiss, a chaste, demure kiss. Then she kissed him again. And again. And again. He ran out of dollars before she ran out of kisses. So, with a light in her eyes, she kissed him for free. The free kiss wasn't the chaste, demure kiss. The chaste one was reserved for the paying customers. The free kiss was one with fire and passion and the promise of things to come.

And those things, they did come. Not quickly, like with today's young couples. They didn't jump into bed after exchanging first names. They dated, really dated. Movies, dinner, dancing. They danced the night away under strings of lights hung from ballroom ceilings. They danced beside candlelit tables in smoke-filled rooms. They danced beneath the stars with sand under their feet and the waves crashing at their backs. They danced in all that they did, their bodies moving together to a rhythm they shared with the universe. Their souls met in the heavens and segued into a samba with the seraphim. Then, when those passions did come, they danced again.

It was on the beach at dusk. The sun dipping into the horizon, burning orange and purple behind the gray clouds of impending night. She pulled him close, lifting up onto her toes and wrapping her delicate arms around his neck. He was taller than her, taller by far, and she had kicked off her shoes as they floated across the beach. He bent down to her ear, letting her whisper softly to him, "Please, make it tonight."

It was her first, and although it wasn't his first, he was far from expert. So afraid of hurting her, he was tentative, reserved, gentle. He entered her slowly, pressing against her tight opening. He could feel the resistance of her virginal opening, and he stopped to let her muscles adjust to the new sensation of being filled. His cock throbbed inside her--impatient despite his best intentions. He held himself over her, waiting for her to feel the same pleasures he was feeling. Gazing down at her he was suddenly overwhelmed with the knowledge that he was staring at the most beautiful creature in the universe. He was held captive by her eyes.

Not until he heard the sharp hissing of her breath between her teeth and her soft moan of pleasure was he able to let go of his desire to protect her. One word escaped her clenched teeth. "More." It was all the encouragement he needed. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her heels digging into the backs of his thighs. Driving him faster and harder.

That first time was forever, indelibly burned into his soul. As the sun melted into the horizon and the waves continued their steady crawl onto the sand they became one. No prose, no songs, no poetry could contain the wonder of them. Only the music of the stars rivaled the wonder that was their coupling.

Now, years later, lifetimes later, she was still as perfect, as beautiful, and as wondrous as that first night. Although she could no longer wrap her legs around his waist, she could no longer hold him in her arms, and she could no longer stroke her delicate fingers along his chest, he loved her.

They sat this way every night. Her meal finished, her thin legs wrapped in a blanket, her eyes seeing something all her own, they sat on the porch. He lifted her gently and sat her lovingly in the padded rocker facing the ocean. He sat beside her in his wicker chair, and rested his hand ever-so-lightly on her fragile arm. And together they watched the sun melt into the water, and always he remembered that night.

It was at sunset when she meant the most to him.