On the living room couch of Aden’s Park Hill bungalow, with her leg tucked up under her, Sandy felt a part of her unwind, or melt. Her soul listened to this man talk about his life. His eyes and mind turned to her with an open caring she’d never imagined coming from a man. She craved more — more connection, more warmth, more of Aden Norsen. With her head on his shoulder, she fell asleep on the couch. He woke her aand insisted she stay in his guest bedroom.
Sandy came out of the small guest bathroom to find Aden asleep on the twin guest bed. He’d waited for her to say good night. His eyes opened the moment she was close.
In a rush of emotion, he reached for her. After six years of longing, his simple gesture sparked a blaze inside her. She was swept away by her own passion for this man.
Lips pressed, hips merged, and they joined in a dance of sensation. Her fingertips burned with the plush texture of his skin. Her body responded at the nip of his teeth against her nipples, her neck, and her ears. Her mouth pulled kiss after kiss from his lips. Each pulse brought deeper waves of connection. Fast and slow, on top and under him, she felt only her fervor for this man.
Their final blaze of glory brought up Sandy’s long-held pain. While his lips kissed her face and eyes, she wept. His arms held her tight through the passing of nameless pain and sadness.
When the storm passed, Sandy attacked. She pulled and pressed at him. She bit at his body and allowed her fingernails to rake at his flesh. Aden matched her with sheer animal passion. In this pure, honest physicality, Sandy’s soul opened to him. Her hands above her head, her body conquered, she called him to join her. Without hesitation, he followed her into oblivion.
Sandy’s very being joined his to dance among the familiar stars. Around and around they waltzed until, one breath at a time, they rejoined their bodies on the cramped bed in the guest room of his Park Hill bungalow. They fell spent to the bed. Wrapped around each other, they slept.
Mike had asked, but Valerie didn’t want to go out. In fact, Valerie didn’t want to leave the bed. She wanted to be tickled, cuddled, and loved. He got up at some point and brought Brie, strawberries, and champagne back to bed. With her head in his lap, he fed her the fruit and cheese. Looking into her hazel eyes, he saw her love for him shining back. Around midnight, they migrated to the large bathtub.
“It’s been a week,” Mike said.
He slipped her hair over her shoulder to use a sponge on her back. She lay back into his lap. He kissed her lips and she smiled.
“Are you … Do you … I mean …” Mike scrunched his eyebrows together. Valerie’s thumb smoothed out the crease between his eyebrows.
“There’s only one time in my life that I’ve felt this right … complete.”
He pulled her between his knees. She tucked her arms over his knees and leaned back against his chest.
“Are you going to start …”
“Our usual argument?” Valerie finished his statement. “You always start our usual argument.”
“I do? How?”
“‘You’re just going to leave again,’” Valerie imitated his voice. “‘You may as well just go.’ Or, my personal favorite, ‘If he’s that great, why don’t you just marry him?’”
“Ouch,” Mike said. “Wes?”
“The other two were just for the press,” Valerie said. “Yes, Wes.”
Mike stared at the wavy glass block window to the Castle garden. The moon hadn’t reached them yet. The distant streetlights reflected off the glass, creating a wispy dance of light. He sighed.
“Sorry. You went on and on and on and on about him.”
“I did?” Valerie asked. “Really?”
“He was smart and sophisticated and went to all the cool parties and knew everyone and wore designer clothing and produced the best films and … I figured you were already fucking him, so … Were you?”
“Not until you told me to leave,” she said.
She didn’t dare look at his face because she knew the pain she would see there. She wasn’t proud of herself or her actions. She and Mike had danced this dance so long that she wasn’t really sure what were her decisions and what were his. Did he make her sleep with Wes? No. But he told her to. Or did he?
“What’s wrong?” Mike asked.
The retelling of Denver Cereal, Volume 1, continues tomorrow…
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