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From: "Stasya T. Canine" <stasya@despammed.counsellor.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Portrait of a Lover (MF rom) Stasya T. Canine
Date: Tue, 23 Jan 2001 18:10:04 -0500
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The strange things my mind does when I'm washing dishes...

Neighbors, this one is more in the nature of a think piece.

The theme:  When was the last time you took the time to really
*see* your Significant Other?
---

Portrait of a Lover
by Stasya T. Canine
---

A frozen moment of time.

When was the last time I really *saw* the one I love?

My answer shames me.

I don't remember.

I shift so I am sitting on the edge of our bed.

When she gets out of the bath and starts to enter the bedroom,
I make my move.

"Stop in the doorway.  Lean on one jamb."

Green eyes study me for a moment.  Pale pink lips quirk into a
slight smile as she casually  settles herself and waits for my
next move.  "Like this?"

I bring up my hands and act like I am framing a picture.  I
start at her feet and slowly 'scan' until I reach her face.

I smile.  "Like that.  I couldn't remember the last time I
really *looked* at you."

"Ah."  It is a breath filled with promises.  She shifts her
body slightly.  It isn't much of a movement but it's enough to
change her attitude from relaxed casualness to calm pride with
a hint of eroticism.  "Like what you see?"

I lower my hands so I am looking at her feet again.  In
passing, I note that her skin glows from being freshly
scrubbed.  "I'll tell you what I see before I answer that
question."

"Your toes aren't perfect.  The toenails are a little ragged.
They need trimming again.  The edges of your feet are slightly
calloused.  Your feet are firmly planted on the ground.  I see
signs that you walk barefoot a lot.  The skin is slightly dry
even though you are freshly bathed.  From experience, I know
the dry look will pass quickly."

I move my view upwards slightly.  "Not youthfully lithe.
Older.  Muscular but with some signs of age.  Blemishes here
and there.  Still strong.  The muscles in your right leg are
mostly relaxed.  The main muscle in your lower left leg is well
defined.  It's obvious you are using it to support most of your
weight as you lean against the jamb.  I can see some dampness
left from your bath.  Here and there the moisture is gathering
into larger droplets that seem to hang before they finally flow
down your legs."

I frame her hips and then briefly glance into her eyes before
looking back.  Her pubic triangle is centered in my vision.  I
remember what my fingers tell me when I've caressed her crotch.
This is the first time I've really studied how she *looks*.

"Amazing.  Considering how fine your pubic hair feels, it looks
coarse.  Reddish in color.  Not as deep a red as the hair on
your head.  Still moist.  I won't try to guess if that moisture
is from your bath or from within.  From the shifts in skin
tones, I can tell your pubes push outwards slightly.  Your
pubic hair is sparse enough that I can see your labia.  Those
are darker than your skin but not the same color they get when
you are aroused.  One hip is slightly higher than the other.
The width below your waist hints at what's on the other side.
You aren't skinny but you aren't excessively fat either.
Hippier than most women these days.  Closer to Rubenesque than
many.  More than enough padding over your bones."

I break off and look directly at her eyes again.  "What can I
say?  Built to be held close and enjoyed.  Plenty to cuddle up
to.  Very fuckable.  Very tasty too."

She blushes and I grin back.  I see more moisture glistening on
her pubic hair.

"Your stomach isn't as flat and taut as it was when we first
met.  Mature.  A little larger but not fat.  Your breasts look
larger.  They sag slightly but the nipples are erect.  Your
areolae are dark against your skin.  Like the rest of you, they
simply show that you are older now.  More experienced.  Carry
them with pride."

"Your arms are slender and crossed under your breasts.  Your
fingers look delicate but I know how strong they are."

"Your whole posture is relaxed.  Casual.  A little amused.
Tolerant of my sudden whim and enjoying my scrutiny.  The
earlier blush has mostly vanished but it left your skin with a
rosy glow."

I lower my hands and take the time to look her over again.
"Honesty compels me to say I've seen women who are more
beautiful.  You aren't plain but you aren't a model, either."
I shrug slightly.  "You know of my appreciation for the beauty
in other women."

I pause as I make sure of my next words.  "You're what I love. 
A woman who is complete.  It's not how you look so much as it
is how you carry what you have.  Magnetic.  Compelling."

"You have something that calls to me.  I've never been able to
put it in words.  I can point at another woman and say 'she has
it, too'.  That still doesn't convey the overall impact."

I frame her face with my hands.  Instead of commenting, I lower
my hands and then walk over to kiss her tenderly.  I pull back
slightly.

"How do I capture your face in words?  Full lips.  Green eyes. 
Ears on either side.  A rather ordinary nose.  A wide mouth
that's smiling slightly.  Brilliant red hair that flows down
your cheeks and trails off just above your breasts."

"Put it together and the overall look is something fairly
plain."

"When I look closer though...  I see your face through eyes
that remember my love for you.  I remember your eyes sparkling
at some joke.  I remember your face slightly tilted to one side
as you ponder some comment I've made.  I remember lips pursed
in thought.  I remember lips distended as you nurse my penis.
I remember cheeks that moved in and out as you focused on
bringing me pleasure."
&&& missed it first time: Line 1 was '...face though eyes
that...'

"I remember eyes gone distant as you let yourself be
overwhelmed by the pleasure I'd given you."

"I remember hair that was flailing wildly as your head went
from side to side as you orgasmed."

"Tears of happiness.  Of pain."

I wrap her in a hug.

"I see my lover, my wife.  I see the woman I love."

"Yes, I like what I see."

We kiss and then I pull away.  Hands intertwined, we head for
bed.

The rest of the night was spent talking without words.
---

Stasya T. Canine
November 14, 2000


---
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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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