Serious Moonlight - Sex Stories

Serious Moonlight

... He touched his lips to her fingertips.

“I’d like to think it was the moon.”

She lifted his hand and returned the kiss. “I love that you think that. I love the way you think. The moon, driving us mad. Moonlight.”

“Driving us looney. That comes from lunar. The word ‘looney.’ Did you know that?”

She said no, but her smile suggested to him that she did. She added, “Isn't that supposed to be the full moon? That drives you mad? It wasn't full last night.”

“Maybe it doesn't matter. It was so bright. Seriously bright.”

“Serious moonlight.”

“It isn't even up now, and I still feel the same way.”

She said, “It is still there. Even if we don't see it. It there. It's shining. It's shining on someone. Even if it isn’t shining on us.”

He took a long banked curve to the left, and suddenly they were there, at the bustle of the Departures gate, cars, and taxis fighting for parking space, travelers spilling out of cars onto the sidewalk, luggage valets tagging suitcases and loading them onto carts, signs every ten feet warning them they could not park, cars must not be left unattended, space was for loading and unloading only.

Get out of the car. Grab your bags. Go.

He left the car running. They shared a long kiss in the car. He popped the trunk, and they left the car and pulled her bags out and onto ...

... the sidewalk. Then, it was just him and her and the luggage at their feet.

He and she, and a hundred other people, sharing goodbyes of infinite variety.

He hugged her, and they shared one more kiss, exchanged I love yous, then clung tightly to each other’s shoulders, prolonging the moment.

He whispered into her ear, “It is always shining on us. The moon. It’s our moon. It shines on us.”

They disengaged. She took her bags in hand. They shared one last look, and one last quick peck of a kiss, and then she was walking through the hissing automatic doors and lost in the crowd as he hurried back to the driver’s seat, avoiding the impatient looks of those vehicles now vying for his parking spot.

He closed the door, buckled in, hit the gas, and pulled out into the stream of traffic, crawling away from the Departures area, heading toward home. He absently touched the bite she had left on his ear as he drove, and noticed a bit of dried blood on his finger. Nature red in tooth and claw, he thought, remembering the way her fingernails scraped the back of his neck when they met yesterday. He took the entrance ramp out onto the highway and turned his attentions toward the road home, his wound forgotten, the events of the weekend already falling out of his waking mind and into the bright alchemical forge of memory.