One Last Kiss

I have a varied collection of short fiction that I used to write when I needed some sort of instant gratification for my muse. "Instant" is a relative term, because I could spend hours working a piece that was no more than 300 words. Short fiction forays were excellent changes of pace for me when I was spending most of my writing time on lengthier non-fiction assignments. This particular piece was written in March 2003.

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One Last Kiss

The kiss was unexpected, but it said a thousand words. It said, "I love you." It said, "If I could, I would make you mine." It said, "You're beautiful, and I'll always remember you." And it said so much more.

Long hair, dark, falling down around her shoulders, moving full and soft as she spoke, turned, looked about her. He reached out and brushed it away from the side of her face, gently tucking it behind her shoulder.

"What was that for?" she asked.

He shook his head and smiled. "You're beautiful."

She blushed.

"I didn't want to miss any of it."

She turned away, cheeks pink with self-awareness, self-conscious of how loudly her heart beat beneath her breast. Then she looked back to him, because there was nothing else she could do.

"You take my breath away," he whispered.

Her blush deepened.

Never had a man made her feel the way he did that night. No man had really ever made her feel. But he did.

The longing in his eyes, the soft touch of his fingers, reaching, unrestrained…confident, yet tender…exploring her world, letting her feel it as it came to life.

In his hands, she was alive. Sensation became a new and vital word -- sensual, heightened. So sure, so safe. For the moment, her soul was bared to the elements, and it lived. He was her protector from within, from without.

All pretense shed, entwined in each others arms, their souls came together so that it could not be undone.

Silently, she began to cry. He kissed her tears, caressed her with promises breathed from his heart.

And then their moment was over.

They stilled in their embrace, holding tightly, each mentally surveying what remained. Eyes closed, they hoped. Eyes open, they knew the truth.

One last touch, burning bare skin, searing the memory. And one last kiss, to seal what had been done. A kiss that said so much but would never have a chance to speak again.