Violin

I sit in the deep, comfortable wing back chair and watch her sleep. Blinking neon lights flicker lazily and struggle to brighten the room through frosted windows.
I can see the rise and fall of her chest with each languid breath she takes.
Raven hair hides her face completely in shadow and I am not completely certain if she be truly asleep or merely feigning it.
She knows what I'm going to do. I push myself up and walk over to the bed.
I can smell sweet wine on her breath as I bend over her. I sweep her hair gently from her face with the side of my hand. Her eyes slowly open and her arms reach out and embrace me. I slide my arms around her and envelope her tender, warm body. Wrapping the blankets securely around her as if she were a child, I lift her up and carry her out onto the terrace.
The weather is sharp enough to produce tenuous puffs of breath that linger for the slightest moment above her lips before dissipating. Snowflakes drift from the sky, clumsy, tumbling, swirling, soundlessly covering everything in a blanket of purity. The wet flakes make it difficult to see. The street, lined with lush,, dark, sensual pine trees is empty. It's our yearly pilgrimage to this resort town. A place to escape and explore a different reality.

You snuggle up to my ear and whisper, telling me how you feel and how you want to feel more of what you’ve just tasted. As I walk you back into the room, I can hear the faint splash of the waves rolling up onto the nearby shoreline. The frosted glass door closes and the blankets drop from your soft white shoulders. The change in temperature makes your skin tingle and your lovely nipples crinkle in happiness. I open my robe and engulf you within my grasp. Soft and hard our bodies meld and we hold each other waiting for the warmth of our hearts to extend itself to the rest of our bodies. We stay that way swaying and grasping until the soft rosy rays of morning greet us and awaken the need to forget again.