Midnight Meeting

It wasn't every night. Although he wished it was. That moment, when he was lying there, tucked tightly into his bed and he'd just begin to float. His head almost covered, comforter pulled up just beyond his nose, but still billowing up past his ears. He wasn't completely off the pillows, but just enough that he felt below everything else, engulfed in the fluff. When it happened, it was always the same. A gentle breeze would waft by. Just light enough for him to notice. Tickle his cheeks - move his bangs just the slightest bit. Then the smell would come. It was light but ever so intoxicating. Of amber and creme. Lotus and a tinge of mahogany. The moment it hit his nose, he lost control. Began to drift away, deeper and deeper into his bed, lost among the feathers of the comforter. At first he always knew he was dreaming. Somewhere deep down in the dark, lying on his back, just waiting. It was never long, but the anticipation bore into his soul. Picked at him. Until they finally arrived. The first few strands. Usually landing somewhere around his face. Sometimes on his arms or hands. His first reaction was always to reach out into the abyss before him, but he knew better. As he waited, more and more strands cascaded down upon him. Enveloping him. Soft and supple. Curling gently across his skin, playing with the goosebumps that always formed. He loved how plush it was. Its fruity smell. The espresso hue. He'd breath it in. Bathe in it. Lost in the coils. Shrouded by them. He could only last so long before he whispered out to them, to which she'd giggle. Somewhere out in the inkiness. Not more than a few inches from his face. He could hear her breathing. Soft and delicate. Feel it spanning the distance and falling softly against his skin. Once he heard her, it was all different. He'd slowly reach out searching for her shoulders. Even though he couldn't see her in the dark, he could picture her porcelain skin as his fingers grazed against it. Satin. Silky. He could let his fingers play against it forever. Tracing the curves of her arms. Knowing the outlines all to well. In his mind he could even imagine where each freckle was - the many constellations that were scattered across her body. As he pulled her closer, he'd anticipate the nape of her neck. Waited for the aroma to become more intense. Flowing into his nostrils, making him dizzy. He would gladly trade it for air. But it just passed by. The closer she got, the further she drifted down. Until the top of her head was just slightly below his chin. Her curls acting as a pillow as her head rested agains his chest. He was always astonished at how well she fit. There was no effort. No need to contort. To bend. Somehow meet in the middle. It was a perfect match. Just felt right. Two pieces that connected. Not long after he'd feel the pressure of her knees wrapping around his legs. Hips cradling his own waist, pulling him close. By then his arms would be down around the top of her shoulders. Hands meeting at the small of her back. Embracing her. Warming her. Squeezing just enough so she'd know he wouldn't let go unless she wanted him to. Protecting her. And then his favorite moment arrived. When she'd move her head back and forth ever so slightly, nuzzling even deeper between his arms, forcing herself further into him. As close as they could be. Then she'd let out a sigh and her breathing could deepen and relax. He could feel her heartbeat slow against his own. When she was asleep, tangled up within him, he was at peace. Nothing else mattered. Then he was awake. Alone. In an empty bed. She might not actually be there, but he could still feel her pushing against him. Sharing her warmth. Those following mornings were always the most bittersweet.  But it was alright - it made their next evening rendezvous even more special.