Stolen Moments in Time

>> Life is passion. Life is music and art. Life is poetry in motion... Have I got a story for you, my friend. <<

Trembling hands reached out and touched her. She leaned into him and sighed from the pleasure of the simple touch. It had been years since anyone thought to rub her shoulders, to even notice that she was clenched up in pain and stress. And to lean back and let herself relax was almost more than she could take. It's not that this was innocent - these things very rarely are - but for a moment in time, she allowed herself to believe that it was okay anyway.

His hands made circles on her back, on her neck. He traced down her arms with a feather's touch and she shivered from the sensation of such intimacy. Slowly, ever so slowly, he leaned down and breathed a kiss along her neck. Never before had she been shaken so deeply to the core. Filled with trepidation and excitement, she turned and looked at him, not knowing what to do. Want and need took over her entirety and her breath came out in a strangled sob.

It had been years since she had been kissed and, stupidly, the only thought that she could grab on to was that she would ruin this perfect moment from lack of practice. As he pulled her into his arms, she held back a laugh at the absurdity of the thought. There was so much more than inexperience to worry about. This moment between them, this was a stolen moment in time - all too dangerous, and far from innocent.

>> I wanted to stop reading. The moment I realized that this story was one in which their union was illicit, I felt cold. But something in the way it was written made me wanting more. The woman in this story, she broke my heart and I wasn't sure why. <<

The first time their lips touched, it was nothing like in the movies - it was clumsy and slightly embarrassing, but the taste of him made her thirsty for more. It didn't take long for them to get it right, and soon time stood still and she couldn't breathe for want of him. In many books, she had read about the desire that is so strong you cannot be satisfied. Taking more and needing more, all in a vicious circle, wishing to somehow crawl inside him. Never before had she felt this way and the intensity terrified and thrilled her. Finally, they pried themselves from one another with a shared look of utter disbelief and confusion. The silence to follow was filled with her surprised bark of laughter when he quirked his eyebrow at her and said, "awkward!" And she was on him again in a flash. Something about this moment will always stand out in her mind and try as she might, she cannot forget it.

When a kiss is planned to be only a kiss, then becomes more than a kiss... it takes you over. He left quickly that day and she sat in numbed silence questioning her sanity. All through the night she couldn't get the feel of him out from under her hands. The taste of him on her lips tortured her. She didn't get much sleep. What he felt, she'll never know.

The next day as the sun rose, she awoke to thoughts of him. A man she had known for many years but never thought of in any deep way, was the first thought on her mind - his name the first word from her lips. Realizing this frightened her, but she really had little control over it. They saw each other again that day and the electricity remained as sharp as the day before. They knew what was happening was wrong, yet the ability to keep from touching one another seemed to have fled with the sunrise. And though the guilt was eating at her, she couldn't find a good enough reason not to allow herself the beauty of it all. One day soon, she knew, it would have to end, and she was determined to carry with her the memories of the way he could make her feel.

>> There seemed to be an ominous tone in the words, but I couldn't decide if it was my own skepticism or the story itself. I continued reading and found myself skimming over paragraphs and pages detailing daily routines with passages of though scattered throughout. As I approached the next chapter, I found myself tense with anticipation. <<

She begged him, pleaded with him, but he just smiled and lazily skimmed her body with his hands. As he eased her jeans from her hips, she squirmed and whimpered, remembering the times she had read this, too, in her books. So, she thought, not everything is fiction. Suddenly she gasped, a sound filled with pleasure, as he ripped her panties in half as though they were made of nothing but air. He kissed her everywhere, caressed her everywhere. From her chin to her feet, and back up again, he slowly trailed her body as though she were a work of art. Later, as she relived those moments, she would wonder at his taste in women. He was a man worthy of awe, a man that, had he been born many years ago, would have had his likelihood chiseled into marble. She knew that though not ugly, she could never match his beauty. And yet from the look in his eyes, she had never before - and never again - felt so beautiful or wanted.

He took his time with her and pleasured her with no care for his own needs or wants. She screamed and cried and shook with gratification from his touch. She couldn't stand, couldn't lift herself at all, and so he lay beside her and held her in his arms as though that is where she had always belonged. Here, too, was a moment she had never experienced. To be held as though precious - it broke her heart knowing that these moments would soon come to an end. It wasn't just the physical satisfaction she received from him, it was also the way he could make her feel - as though she were interesting and important, funny and desirable - that she knew she'd cry for late in the night. And when it was all over, that's exactly what she did. Her dreams would awaken her and she'd reach out for him, but he was never there again.

It was on a rainy day that it happened - the decision to end it. They had met in a place no one they knew would be and had spent a few hours together just laughing and enjoying each other's company. He had asked her where she wanted to go and didn't make her feel at all stupid when she said she wanted nothing more than to sit on a swing and fly as high as she could. As they were sitting together, she brought up a conversation they had had earlier in their relationship - or whatever it was that they had. They had agreed not to get emotionally involved, and though he did a damn good job with his end of the bargain, she knew that she was failing miserably with hers. She told him that she could easily fall in love with him, but the truth was that she already had. He looked at her with a look in his eyes that broke her heart. Terror at the idea of her loving him was never something she had considered. She knew that he would never love her and hadn't expected that he would, but to see the way he looked at her broke her in a place she didn't know she had.

Being together had never been an option and this she knew too well. He had a wife and a child, a family of his own, and the fact that she took him from them for only a few hours already made her ill. Taking him from them for good would have turned her against herself, and she could never have allowed that. Nor, as hypocritical as it may seem, would she ever really trust him not to do the same to her. Yet, saying good bye that day was harder than she thought it would be, and the tears she cried were more painful than any she'd ever cried before.

Years later, she sees this man and his family, and they can laugh and smile at one another - pretend that these things never took place - and usually she has no trouble playing along. But occasionally, she finds herself looking at him without realizing it, watching the way his lips move, and remembering a few stolen moments in time. Wondering if he ever does the same.

<< With tears in my eyes, I can't decide if I hate or love the woman in this story. She knew what she was getting into from the beginning, and having respect for someone who held another woman's husband is difficult for me, but here I find myself feeling differently. I know nothing of this man from what is written, and absolutely nothing of his wife, and yet I had found myself hoping that the end would be a different one. One, perhaps, in which the lovers wound up together. But as I say that, I realize that this isn't particularly true. I guess, what I wish I knew, is what the man felt. Did he start to love her too? Did he miss her in a way that was more than purely physical? These types of stories always leave me wanting more. That is why I have chosen to share this one with you. >>