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The Love Show #2: Sarah

I’m Sarah, 37 and an HR Business Partner.  I live in a smallish town and own my own house.  I love to take photos: mostly scenery either locally or abroad and I have shot a few weddings as favours to friends and have won a few prizes for some of my landscapes when I’ve entered competitions.  I love to be in the outdoors, hiking, running or just soaking nature in.  My hair is shoulder-length and naturally brown-black, my face is minimally made-up unless I really need to and even then, I’m not into looking like a warrioress. my skin doesn’t look like it’s been attacked by a carrot.

My love life has been stone cold.  I somehow end up with guys who are expecting stay at home wife who will quickly knock out the kids for them.  While I’d like kids with the right guy if it happened, I want to cook for and be cooked for, to love and to be loved as an equal. 

One night after our weekly pub run, I was having dinner with friends and we ended up making rather rude comments about The Love Show: that most of the women were busty, vacuous tarts and a lot of the guys had bigger tits than I do, although mine are not measurable solely with a magnifying glass.

They dared me to sign up and see if I’d find Mr Small Tits. As we were chatting, I googled TLS application and quickly filled in the form on my phone, with assistance from my friends as another round was consumed.

Weeks later, I got a call from the producers, accepting me for an in-person interview.

Create the position description, then make a candidate list, I decided. My candidate should be at least as tall as me, preferably childless but open to the idea. A smoker was a hard kill: I’ve had family that were stupid enough to smoke and I’ve seen what happened to them. I told them that I needed a guy that would stimulate my mind and body, in that order. This, I conveyed this to the producers.

I’ve also found that guys with too much body muscle tends to mean that they can lack in cranial muscle.  Ideal config for me is that I can see his chest muscles, but my tits would be bigger than his!

I went in with the attitude that I’d give it my best shot and I knew that throwing two unknowns together wouldn’t be plain sailing. I’d enjoy the fast runs and ride out the inevitable storms, dealing with the effects as I went along.

From work, I know when an interview is going well and also, when is definitely sunk and I’ve dealt with employee situations where things are unrecoverable. When they’re sunk like the Moskva, I call it over and get the exit papers sorted. I was determined to do my best, but if things developed into an unrecoverable shit-show, I’d call it over. End. Then, like Cincinnatus, I’d return to my [not] farm and my life as before.

When I was accepted, I had to choose a wedding dress.  My default style is casual, but clean: flowers for me, are in the garden and not on dresses.  I love a good, fitted dress or blouse and have used The Hong Kong Tailors for ages as they do good value made to measure, but I’m not really into showing skin.  Mum and I found a fitted, high cut white dress on the HKT site that had a 6″ train. I arranged a fitting and had them tweak it to optimise my fit.

I’m not a huge makeup or jewellery girl and I decided that I was going to be what I normally am in appearance when at a Formal.

I’ve done a dozen formal public speeches and I know how to prep and present.  I wrote my vows’ bullet points on the cards: honesty, respect, standing by but sometimes up for were the main themes.

The day of the wedding, I was nervous as.  I had my watch on, and my HR was over 90 solidly, sometimes hitting 110 which for me is pre-race! Normally it rests in the 60s.  In the car, I focussed on the scenery, thinking how I’d shoot it and wishing I’d brought my phone to take pics.

Walking up the aisle, at the altar, I saw a tall, slender form entirely in black.  No daft things like no socks or red shoes. Good Start, I thought.

The form, my future guy, turned as I neared him, showing his cropped hair and spectacled eyes. I noticed a gentle smile on his face, and he seemed at peace, unlike me.  He had a white shirt and black bow tie, and I noticed his suit seemed to be fitted: not tight but tailored.  Even better. Wonder if he uses HKT like I do, I mused. 

Had his appearance swept me off my feet? I thought.  No, I was still standing, but his appearance could glide me gently down a path I mused.  I briefly thought about wedding pics and how I’d love to shoot us if I was on the view finder.  This distraction slightly relaxed me.

When he gently took my hand, I was relieved.  Formal but friendly.  He spoke in a tone barely low enough for the people in the front row to hear, He’s speaking to me and me only I realised and maybe he was trying to relax me?

When he replied that, “Nerves are serving me not me them,” I had to ponder that statement: either he was BS’g, or he really was not nervy.  #2 I thought, unlike me!

His offer to help me relax stunned me as it was certainly not what I expected at the altar.  But his gentle, soft way of asking and showing engendered trust quickly: he was not trying to hit on me as I had initially wondered, but it was a sincere offer.  Sincerely given, sincerely and gratefully received and used.

I’d previously tried some breath control techniques, but had got distracted during them and stopped trying, Andy leading me actually worked as I felt my heart slow, and my body relax.  The fruit comment was simply the end cap of the process.

I realised that we had united together in that most fundamental, life-giving action: breathing.

He started the vows, by bringing out his cards, Good to see, I thought.  His bow and formal presentation of the blanks stunned me, Was I being had? I thought.

I quickly realised his vows were neither scripted, nor a full wing: they were honest and from the heart.  But I knew that I was screwed: he’d blown away the vows I’d prepared.  I got his comment about burning food (distracted by me!) and I gave him a glare in acknowledgement.

I also realised that, inadvertently, he had challenged me intellectually.  His intelligence showed in the vows, but they challenged me to give a suitable response.  Its sexy in a non-sex way, I realised, and I did the Up and Down so recently taught to steady myself.

I’ve had speeches that go sideways due to something that that audience has raised, and my method is to respond to the audience.  In this case, I quickly decided that my vows would be a response to his.  But first a slight kick to let him know he’d sunk the vows I’d planned to use!

I felt a pleasant rush as, from my heart, I poured out my response.  I could see his appreciation and felt his soft touch on my hand soothing me. I may have found a true equal, I realised.

His run in for a kiss, but last-minute breakaway was sweet: polite and gentle, but a tease rather than a hit. 

When the officiant said, post-rings that we may kiss, Andy looked at me with a cocked head, questioning this. I understood perfectly, He would like to kiss me, but wonders if now is quite the right time. If it is, how much of a kiss do I want as we’ve only just met.

I pursed my lips in thought and quickly resolved: Not a full-on kiss, but just a brief taster, so I ding-tapped my finger on his hand and pursed my lips tighter.  Smart and caring guy I’ve got, I thought as he peck-kissed me which I briefly held, then we turned around to the room and walked down the aisle.

I didn’t mind when he took his ring off and placed it in the box in his pocked as he had spoken the truth.  Placing my hand over his over the pocketed ring was a touching and honest gesture.

His delayed compliment about my dress and its associated apology, was appreciated.  The reasons for the delay: making me feel relaxed had bonded us, so I playfully rubbed my head on his shoulder to acknowledge.

It gave me an opening to test out my theory on his suit, so I playfully pinched the side of his jacket and upper trousers.  It was a fitted suit, but was it his or a rental, I wanted to know, so I asked him and got a head rub in return.

We laughed at my recitation of mum’s proverb about fitted vs tight.  Another hand rub: micro touches of affirmation seemed to be our thing at the moment, I understood.

Walking to the meadow, we saw the photographer for the inevitable shots. While I enjoyed our brief altar kiss, I wasn’t mad on a staged pash.  I had the feeling that Andy may feel similar.  When he said he did want to kiss me, but unsure when, it reinforced my feelings about him: that he was interested in me, but fundamentally, he respected me.  As his vows said, he’d just reinforced partnership.

I like taking atmosphere photos at weddings and I thought that some light-hearted ones that we could wing would loosen us up, so offered it up.

His follow-on suggestion that we should do him holding me from behind was bang-on: we could Up and Down as I was referring to it, to relax and it would keep the crew sweet.  Then our fun could begin.

I knew that despite really being strangers, we were on the same page, but maybe not quite the same page as the crew wanted.

The photographer called us in, and we stood in front of her as I scooched back into his chest, diligently getting a good resting spot, placed my hands on his. I looked up into his spectacled eyes, idly wondering what they looked like bare. He repeated the down-up-down breathing to relax me, causing my heart to slooowly relax and my breathing timed into his rhythm as we united bodies.  We stood there reciprocating the relaxation breathing as the shots were taken.

“Now let’s have some shots of you kissing, ” The photographer said.  My fingertips play-raked his hands to acknowledge my leading.

We played along we faced each other, then I put my arms around Andy which he reciprocated.  My head moved in close to his and he came close to me as if to pash me.

“Nice shots: now the kiss,” we heard.

Fun time, I decided: see how Andy plays off me.

I growled clenched teeth at him and I got a snarl in return, though inside, I was stifling a laugh.

“WHAT” called out the shooter and someone from the crew.

“Humour us, ” I called out and resumed my growl. Click.

He playfully arched his back and looked down at the floor.  I returned the arch and miserable floor stare and looked down saying, “Shoot” Click

I got a gentle side tickle as a reward that sent a tingle up my spine, and I felt my nipples tighten slightly. He really has an impact on me, I felt.

We did a couple more lead and follows calling the shot to the increasingly irked shooter and crew.  We were having fun at their expense, and they weren’t happy as they wanted something happy and staged.  They were only getting 1 of 2!

Softly he said, “Humour them, then we can eat?,” and I felt my stomach rumble.

I smiled at him, “Co-author, I like the story so far.”

We held hands and leaned in, pursing our lips as we gently touched lips. Click caused us to straighten as we smiled at the shooter for a final shot.

Walking back, Andy said, “There are two ways to get to know someone, deeply and slowly or shallow and fast.”

For a second, I pondered this deep thought. Drip – well pour, a lot more respect for him.

Silently, I slid single finger over his hand in response to acknowledge The Slow Way.  I was curious though, about the breathing technique we were using, so I asked him smiling, “The breathing technique works, ” and smiled more into his eyes, “Is that how it’s properly done?”

His reply of “Not exactly .. but it was the appropriate way,” reinforced my admiration and respect for him: we had just met and he wanted to help me but explicitly not send a signal that could be interpreted as hitting on.  I was surprised how comfortable I felt around him, and I snuggled into him as we walked to the dinner while holding hands.

After arriving, someone called out “Speeches”.

He looked into my eyes and I felt my vision narrow until I could only see him and he said how grateful he was for everything, especially me.  Soppy, but very honest, I knew.

I decided to deadpan the response to get a laugh, flickering my eyes at him to lighten things up which worked.

Dinner was then served.  Mostly, we chatted just with each other, finding more commonality and some slight differences.

His enquiry about allergies touched me deeply.  I already knew he cared and respected me, but this flooded me with admiration for him and I did the head-shoulder-touch.

Mum and Ellie, my sister, had been looking on at us, giving discrete approving signals. He let me chat to them first. They told me that they admired his vows but knew they had blown my planned ones out of the water and they were impressed how I’d quickly winged a response.  

I replied, “He is a very thoughtful guy,” trying to count the number of thoughtfuls he’s exhibited in a fraction of a day.

Later on, we were both tired as we headed for the car taking us to the hotel and we belted up and snuggled into each other, relaxing wordlessly.  

We had the camera crew follow us into the room.  Before us was the bed with roses, a bottle of champagne on the side, and some chocolates.  We stood there in reflection. 

It was late and I get sugar hits quite easily, so don’t like eating chocolate too late after dinner.

When he asked, “Have them now or get changed into something comfy?”, more drips of respect for me

The dress, while fitting was starting to pinch, and I haven’t spent that long in heels in years. Good offer: I can dump them, I thought, smiling and replied, “Comfy.  Maybe sample the chocolate but I don’t want the hit this late.  Can I inspect your shirt?” as I did want to see if what was underneath was similar as the jacket.. but the real underneath could wait, I thought! 

We walked in and closed the door, and I got a nod in reply to my question, so I undid his jacket’s three buttons, then playfully pinched his shirt on the side, reached up, and playfully but chastely peck-kissed him in approval.  “Fitted,” and smiled.

He returned my peck kiss and, “Need help?”. 

Yes I did as it was tighter than a wetsuit on Day 1 after winter!

I peck-kissed a response and I felt his hands go behind, then take my zip, and undid it. He playfully slid a finger down my spine, causing a gentle shudder to shoot. I’ll change in the bathroom: I need less space?” he offered, and I rubbed my head on his shoulder again.

Lots of drips of respect for him!

We seemed to have developed a Love Language already: gentle head-shoulder rub-touches, plus occasional brief kisses.

He dug out blue jeans and a blue polo shirt from his luggage which I thought were casual but not scruffy: like the black jeans and black long-sleeved Icebreaker 200 zip top that I was going to get. Then he took them into the bathroom while I shed the dress and put on the casuals.

Leaving the bathroom, I smiled looking at his darkly clothed figure and he flicked his eyebrows at me as he saw the top gently tracing my torso. I got this and smiled.

“Eat them here or on the deck?” he offered.

Outside: one taste [of choc and Andy], I decided and picked up the chocs, nodding towards the door, but motioning free hand for mine take me in your hand.  We were followed out by the crew again which I knew was part of the deal, but implicitly we had decided to let them do their thing as we did ours.

On the deck, he found a wall with a ledge overlooking the garden where I put the chocs.  It was a clear night, and the stars were out, and I slid my back onto his chest again.  Soo comfy and relaxing, I knew, and rested my head on his collar.

He placed his hand gently on my stomach to steady me respectfully and I put my hands on his, reached around, took a chocolate. So romantic, let’s try a bit longer this time I decided, and I placed it in my mouth, then turned my head turned and placed it on his lips and into them, so our lips touched.  We bit down on it and kissed while eating, then our lips parted but heads not.  His free hand went over mine.

We stood there in silence, apart from discrete yakking from the crew, and felt our breathing slow as we soaked in the scene.  I felt him gently slide down the wall, so we were sitting on the deck and we entered a deeper relaxation.

I felt Andy’s chin gently rub my shoulder, then the sun gently hitting my eyes and realised we were still had fallen asleep, entwined against the wall. Someone had gently placed a large blanket over us seemingly after we had fallen asleep.

I really was comfy with this guy that I had known for a matter of hours, I realised.

The pleasurable moment was slightly spoiled when I realised that there was a camera pointing at us, but a kiss was definitely in order, so I got, then received a gentle one. 

What now.  No idea, I mused as I still wasn’t fully awake, but a soft voice in my ear spoke “Stay here or breakfast?”.  I drew two fingers across his hand, then a single one in reply meaning that breakfast outside would be nice.

He conveyed my, well our, decision to the crew and one of them left.

After a slow get up and stretch, we walked around holding hands, silently, soaking in the view and our ongoing relaxation.

“I didn’t expect that to be our first night: falling asleep under the stars,” I told him and turned in to kiss him gently which I got a likewise response.

“I’m not complaining: I had a great view,” he responded softly and rubbed his head on mine, and I returned the rub, like a pair of cats.

Love Language again.

On the table was an envelope labelled ANDY AND SARAH.  We arched our eyebrows at each other cynically wondering what the payload would be.  I’ll be led, I thought and nodded at him, so he opened it.

Your honeymoon is Valuka Resort, Tonga, it said, and he presented it to me, smiling.

I’ve never been to the Pacific, and said, “Never been to Tonga, you?”

His reply that he’d been on what was essentially a humanitarian trip surprised and impressed me.  Drip, drip, drip.

I’m not a huge breakfaster, but I discovered he’s definitely more into it which gave him an excuse to dish more onto my plate or mouth. We chatted a bit, but we were still in post-wall mode and sleepy so just soaked in the view, across the table and elsewhere.

I did wonder whether the crew were getting pissed at us as they kept motioning to us, likely to try to get us to chat more.  Never mind.

He smiled and said, “Can I be honest?”  He was always honest with me, but I knew that this was a polite ask to be serious which I respected him for and nodded, returning the smile. 

“I know what questions we’ll get asked by them,” referring to the sex and similar questions, and nodded over at the crew, “but those questions I’m dodging.  That’s just my view, he said”, stating his position but respecting whatever one I held.  Burst water main pour of respect and increased feelings.  

What I wanted to hold now, was him.

I got up, came behind, and rubbed my head on his, then turned and gently kissed saying “agreed” and another, deeper kiss.

Still entwined, he carried on, “There are three parts to getting to know someone,” and tapped my head, ribs mid-way down, and then wiggled his hand on my hip bone, causing pleasurable tingles. “Each has to be complete before starting the next step.”

I knew that to promulgate those enormously deep thoughts, I’d need at least three coffees in me!

I squeezed him hard and gave a hard kiss in response at the hip one acknowledging I knew that was a sly gesture for sex.

He continued,

I continued, “I hope that we can be curled up in our chairs at 80 wishing we’d got at it sooner, rather than six months’ time wishing we’d waited a bit longer.”

I heard “Got at it” [sex] and instantly replied, “Huh?”, then “Ohhh” as I realised the old age was the salient point.  I kissed him softly and slowly as a long, sensual response wondering what we’d be like at 80, then said, “80 hmmm”, holding him tighter and he gave me a lingering kiss.

Finally, we returned to the room with its still-made bed and he gentlemanly nodded toward the bathroom you first.

First me, then him showered but returned to our existing clothes and packed.

We got to the plane and strapped in.  He said, “If I fall asleep on you, it’s not you: I have trouble being awake on planes.” 

I arched my eyebrows in response thinking that he wouldn’t drop on me and we carried on chatting during take-off and ascent.

Sharing a headset, holding hands and heads on shoulders, we explored the contents of the screen, but it excited neither, Andy even less I felt his hand go limp as he had nodded off.

I playfully pinched him to wake him up saying, “You went down on me.  Naughty,” and kissed him gently which I got an in-kind response.

He dropped again into slumber, and I soon followed thanks to my comfy Andy pillow, where remained apart from brief interruptions when the food was served and upon landing.

We were trailed by the camera crew as we were escorted through the resort to our room.  It had a huge King bed and overlooked a very inviting pool and the sea in the background.  In our now normal position of hand-holding close to each other. we walked out onto the terrace, and I resumed my favoured snuggle against his chest.  He said, “Nice view,” and I looked up at into his eyes, smiling and said, “Where?”.

This elicited a gentle, open-mouthed kiss and then he continued, “As well. That pool looks inviting.” 

I also wanted to view the view under his T-shirt and kissed back, replying, “Lots of inviting,” and snuggling my head into his neck, then releasing myself.

I took his nodded hint to change in the bathroom first, opening my suitcase and digging out a one-piece. Enough to give him a general idea; the tri pair hopefully in a few days, I decided.

When I got out, I saw he had changed into tri shorts that only gave a slight idea of their contents.  He was hairless apart from his head.  I knew that a lot of running and biking guys did this as a safety measure against skin rips caused by trips and falls. The chest looked more appealing and easier to kiss hairless, I decided smiling, but that treat would wait.

I saw he had laid out two sets of hats and googles.  This, on its own, was a microsecond thought when packing, but it’s effect hit me hard: even when packing, he’d thought of his future bride.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him softly, then said, “Sweet.”  

We walked to the poolside, and we dropped our towels and hats and waded into the inviting, warm azure water where we stood midriff deep. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and I placed mine over his shoulders as we drank in the moment, then briefly kissed a soft, sensual kiss.

We got out and put our hats and goggles on, then swam easily together.  Sometimes an arm would playfully stroke through against the other’s back mid-stroke, but the light started to dull. 

Like telepaths, we wound up the swim, exited, stopping for another hug.  Neither of us could see the crew, but we knew they were lurking and probably had a few good shots of us: they would just have to cut the invigorating, but boring for them swim.

We modestly helped each other towel off poolside: the first time we’d properly touched each other as our mutual comfort had increased, then returned to the room to change for dinner. 

Unspoken, we both chosen dark T-shirts and jeans and what looked like retired running shoes.  Stylish but comfortable.

I’m pretty boring at home: dinner, newspaper, paperwork and hopefully NCIS.  

After dinner, I asked me what he’d normally do at home and he replied slightly sheepishly, “The paper: Crossword, Obits then news.”

It wasn’t a sexual turn on, but if brains could get soaking wet and orgasm, he’d pretty much hit my intellectual G-Spot with the response, so I kissed him and said excitedly, “Get it out, let’s play together.” 

He hooked up the tablet to the WIFI and pulled the latest paper as I wrapped around his back and leaned into his neck.  This would become our evening stimulation, much to the chagrin of the crew: our bodies and brains entwined attacking the grid and critiquing the news.

We may have been intellectually rampantly naked with each other, but we weren’t ready physically, so later, we changed into PJs and actually made it to the bed where we embraced, kissing, and fell asleep still entwined like last night.

Our honeymoon was fast and joyous. We were moving at our own pace and decided implicitly that if we were able to relax around each other, the rest would follow. And it did.

We had a mutual, unsaid understanding that helping out of clothes was OK, stripping each other, not. Likewise there were a lot of areas we could touch, but a few off limits.

We found out our differences and similarities: he was a big breakfaster and small luncher, whereas I was the opposite. This provided ample opportunity for feeding and sharing, tightening and deepening our bonds.

The pool got used a lot for both exercise and romance, with my one-piece swapping to a two-piece tri that still covered my breasts well and budgies replaced his tri shorts, giving me a slightly better view. We had longer, deeper and more sensuous but not horny-passionate kisses. We were getting passionate about other things long before sex and our most rampant stimulation was between the ears.

We had joked that some couples were screwing each other passionately but thinking shallowly, whereas we were chaste downstairs and rampant upstairs.

The second day was sightseeing, and I saw him get out his SLR.  I was curious about it, hoping we could share kit if we had similar models. He put his on the table: an R-50.

I looked at it and sullenly opined, “We’re fucked,” and glaring and baiting him. This caught the attention of The Pests as we referred to the crew, but reading his body language, I knew he’d twigged my mischief was up.

I went into my bag and removed my Z-50 SLR, showing it to him. “Very fucked,” he replied sternly. I grabbed him, kissing him hard open-mouthed.  He replied with a deep French as the confused Pests looked on.

“Canon guy with Nikon girl: totally incompatible bodies,” he replied sourly, “Could be worse: one of us could be Sony-inclined.” 

“Our bodies may be incompatible, but our ring mounts and drives certainly are,” I said as he ran his hand down my back and a pleasurable tingle whizzed gently down, like when he unzipped my gown, and he gave a final French and his tongue played with mine.

I kissed him playfully and hard in return, Frenching deeply which he returned and pinched his bum as the crew realised they’d been had. Got a play and one over on The Pests too, I thought.

All the dinners were filmed, but I sensed that the crew were bored and irritated with us as we always sat adjacent for better touching and feeding, but this made for worse camera angles.  We didn’t chat a lot at dinner: we just relaxed, enjoyed the food, views and each other.  We were happy, secure and contented.

Mid-way through, one of The Pests dropped an envelope on the table, eliciting us to glare across the table. 

I back-hand pushed his adjacent leg, signalling him to move the chair out so his comfy lap could be sat upon. He took the hint, then I slid over into the warm, comfy pad, snuggling my back into his chest and shoulder.

I took the card and leaned over for a quick kiss which he returned, holding me around the midriff and relaxing in, feeling me relax into him.

First card: What were your first thoughts?

His answer about the dress being elegant was true, so was the follow-on about makeup and jewelry. He got a kiss to reward his honest answer.

I pinched down his side, like I did in the wedding garden as my answer and availed myself of another kiss on his lips.  My ideal vision. Then and now. In light and darkness. 

Next card: Do you regret anything about the day?

He reiterated his apology for not complimenting me immediately when he saw me, and I repeated that his relaxing me had been noted much more. Yet another excuse for a kiss, not that I need it, so I kissed him lingeringly again.

Card 3: Do you want to have Sex?

The question we knew was coming! I knew his answer already: he tapped me on the head, heart and a wiggle on the belt, then said a stern, “No” to the audible shock of the crew.

His continuation that” … when we are ready, we will make love,” was deep and honest as we were intimate in many forms already, like the current physical intimacy where I was sitting on him. My reply was heartfelt, and I spun around, embracing him, melding my chest into his and gave him a gentle, deep French which he returned, and we soaked in the sensual pleasure, completely forgetting we were being filmed.

We were looking forward to the next stage of The Experiment as we packed, then headed to the airport.

The pilot coming on the PA mid-flight is never good news and his announcement saddened us as we briefly discussed it, but slumber soon overtook us.

I always need the loo after a flight, so at the sign, I turned right and Andy turned left.  My phone pinged as texts from Mum and Ellie came through.

I saw Andy slumped against the wall on his phone and I knew something bad was up. He nodded at me, gesturing me in and he carried on talking, in very short sentences to whoever was on the other side.

He passed me over the phone, showing me the text he’d received: it looked like a series of abbreviations.  The only one I recognised was AZP: where we were now.

His voice was so low that it would have made a church mouse sound riotous and it conveyed deep sadness: at the text’s contents and the affects that were starting. He really had no choice but to head over to help with the quake response. That he was flying private not scheduled and that the monitoring planes were already in the air impressed upon me the urgency and I felt his shock as I knew that the guy I had started to love and admire in so many ways would depart my presence, albeit for only a week.

We had only been together a week. A surprisingly easy but deep and joyous week. I knew that I could handle a week apart, not happily but my head held sway over my saddening heart, and I gained more comfort by snuggling into his chest.

I held his head in my hands and kissed him gently knowing that I wanted to savour what little time we now had and to make it memorable for both, “A week isn’t too bad considering what’s happened over there.” Sometimes duty has to come before love, my head told my heart.

His comment about a final kiss as he would board the plane was incredibly touching and romantic. “Kissing enough to last a week was touching” was a challenge that I was definitely up for.

He explained that Falcon 1 [callsign], the first plane had left within 90 minutes of the go-ahead and that Falcon 2 had left under 90 minutes after. That the final destination was, at departure, unknown shocked and surprised me, but I now understood the speed that things were moving. Warp Speed Captain Kirk?

After getting the bags and clearing airside, we walked tightly together, closening our already tight emotional bond. I knew that we had formed a deep emotional bond founded on respect, partnership and ability to challenge intellectually. The physical attraction was merely the icing on a very rich cake.

Our moods were darkening and our thoughts deep as we saw the tunnel of our time together close in. But we knew that in a week, a very bright light would shine.

Arriving at the BizJet terminal, the departure board announced that very little sand remained in our timer and he held me gently, but tight as we kissed tearfully. 

Tears of joy for the week gone, tears of sorrow for the departure and the week ahead.

I playfully, but tearfully pushed him away saying, “Not enough kiss to sustain the whole week, you owe me.” Actually, we would owe each other, I knew.

Seeing him head out of the door and across the short apron to the ready GX, I kept a steady nerve so I could savour the last views of my love.

The plane door closed and my emotions broke. Still looking out, I wept silently and powerfully with the increasing noise of the plane powering up in the background.

My phone pinged a final ping from Andy: Miss u.

The truth. So do I already, I knew and my silent sobs increased.

 

    What do you think?

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