On the Afternoon Breeze

The breeze stops and Beth groans. A terrifying moment of loss and unbearable sorrow. Her eyelids flutter. The light is growing dimmer. Another day stealing away. Another day separating her from the presence of Casey. She cannot bear this. She tightly closes her eyelids and shudders, forcing herself deeper into sleep and dreams . . . and into never-ending despair. The breeze steals back into the pavilion. Beth settles again and her fingers continue their descent.

She has centered them now, and she parts the labia, just as Casey would do. She touches the tenderest if spots with her forefinger and begins to rub it gently in a familiar circling motion. She wills herself to feel Casey’s touch, pulling him back from the beyond with all her might. And she sighs and moans as she feels the touch of his lips on her there. And the flicking of his tongue. She begins to move her hips to his touch and to make small, meowing sounds at the back of her throat.

Her fingers slide further in, and she begins to moisten and to move in a slow, rocking motion. She feels the weight of Casey on her now in the hot, humid afternoon air coming off the Gulf waters. There’s a humming noise. Is it a motorboat out on the water moving past? Or is it that low, humming, fully aroused sound Casey made when he was preparing to slide into her? Or is it just she, herself, responding to her own summoning of her lost lover?

She opens her legs to the deeper penetration of her fingers . . . of Casey entering her, filling her, stretching her, and then moving inside her, matching the undulations of her pelvis with deep sliding, powerful, yet gentle, fully possessing thrusts.

Beth groans and moans. A deep, full-throated sound. The sound of Casey nearing his climax deep inside her. Her own flow and tightening and frenzied twitches. Once, twice, three times. A guttural cry. A shared death. A deep sigh.

Running her hands back up across her belly and breasts. Murmuring her love and acceptance of Casey’s homage and attention.

One of Beth’s arms extends out and her hand brushes across the surface of the side table. She feels cold metal. Something unexpected. She forces her eyes to slit open and focuses her mind to the edge of consciousness with great effort.

Looking over at her side, she sees it. A gold heart-shaped locket on a gold chain.