I once had a lover
An elegant dark skinned man. A radiant man. A man who knew his mind. A man who knew his body. A man who knew my body. We were more friends than lovers, but impressive lovers when those moments flowed.
He invited me to celebrate his 40th birthday which started in a bar downtown. How could I not know the marvels of a chocolate martini, he wondered? Of course, I was soon to find out. My mouth traveled roads of unexpected, velvety titillation, offered up by Godiva liqueur. We drank one, or two, or three…and danced a number, or two, or three to the live music playing…birthday celebrating was to be had.
We stayed late into the night. I returned with him to his home where we made spirited and vigorous love for 4 hours straight – I mean no rest, no pause. He kept shaking his head in wonderment and pleasure. After all, it was a birthday party.
The morning came, too soon after we closed our eyes, and we tumbled out of bed to a resuscitating hot shower. When I stepped out to dry myself, he took the towel, dabbing the moisture from my body. He then pulled out a deep cobalt blue jar of cream – Nivea cream – applying it to my body in loving and glorious and non-sexual ways saying his Grandmother had taught him to take care of his skin.
I was stunned. I never, ever had a man anoint me in such a way. I was deeply taken by his gesture. It felt more like MY birthday.
Tonight, over 10 years later, I found a small cobalt blue jar in my travel case – a gift from a friend before I left Cincinnati. Applying Nivea cream to my hands, for the first time in a very long time, flooded my body with sincerely cherished memories of a man who gave me a not forgotten experience. Maybe, a never-to-forget experience.
I float my gratitude across the miles to him.
Photo credit: Magdalena Lutek