They touch with thought. The desire is felt physically through their eyes. Music is in the background… something soft and unobtrusive. Nothing matters but the present.
He raises his hand and touches her cheek. He does not caress her, he is afraid he might mar her beauty. Instead he lightly touches her and whispers in her ear.
A hint of a blush, a small nervous giggle, those are the rewards for the right words. That is what he is given.
Their eyes meet once more. Desire has been replaced by passion and fear. The passion is for the emotion; the fear is that the moment might slip away. They embrace it.
As their lips touch they do not lose eye contact, they do not lose the present. There are no fireworks, no magical lightning bolts that come from their kiss. The effects are internally felt though, a slow throbbing of need, and want, has replaced given heartbeats. Their hearts seem to be one.
He leads her through the door. She hesitates… but only for a moment. She is already there. As she takes her first willing step she sheds her doubts like a robe, placed upon the floor next to her clothes.
And above the moon closes his eyes and wishes for the sun.
Have a good weekend everyone.