Cherry blossoms floated in showers of pink and white petals on the brisk, spring breeze. Here and there clusters of students gathered, dotting the city park with spots of lively activity. Their laughter rang in the light peals of the young and the young at heart.
Walking briskly along the sidewalk, Amanda Stetson smiled at the young people and wondered if her oldest son Phillip was among them. He’d started college that fall and was enjoying the experience to the fullest. His sports program was “fantastic”, his frat house “fab” and his nightlife “awesome”. His grades… well… that was another matter…
Sighing, Amanda shook her head as she halted at her destination; the third park bench past the park entrance. Glancing around, she saw that her 1pm appointment had not arrived yet. Settling onto the bench, she sat her purse beside her and scanned the surrounding area automatically. Her senses remained calm and she relaxed against the backrest slightly.
The yet slightly cool wind picked up briefly and she tucked her jacket closer to her sides then lifted her face to the spring afternoon sun. A stray pink petal fluttered across her lap, balancing precariously on her crossed knees. She gingerly plucked the errant petal from her light blue skirt and rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger. The fragile pink bud was smooth and velvet on the down stroke, rougher on the up stroke. She smiled softly, secretly to herself at the image the sensory perception conjured.
**********
Just that morning, the early April sun had filtered through the lace curtain of the bedroom window and fell across their bed. The hazy light began to rouse Amanda immediately and she sighed, yawned and stretched to full wakefulness. Her hand reached out to the left and found his shoulder. She turned to face him and smiled when she saw that he slept soundly still. His face was sheltered from the AM light and his long frame remained relaxed in peaceful slumber.
Morning stubble covered his strong jaw with dark shadow. His first act upon rising would be to shower and then shave, removing the rough whisker stubble from his handsome face. Secretly, Amanda thought the morning growth sexy and as she often woke before him, would lie and admire the image he made as she slept next to her.
Tenderly now, she reached out and ran her fingertips over his cheek and jaw line; smooth on the down stroke, rough and raspy on the up stroke. For timeless seconds she caressed his warm skin, intent on the feeling of his flesh beneath her hands. So focused on the experience was she that she visibly started when his sleepy eyes blinked open and his morning husky voice greeted her.
“Good morning.”
**********
“Penny for your thoughts.” The deep voice echoed in her ear as his hot breath rushed over her bare neck. Lee settled on the park bench next to her and waited expectantly for her response.
“Oh! You startled me.” Amanda smiled and shifted on the bench, angling her legs toward his, nudging his knees in mock reproach. “I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up!”
“Never… You were in some daze… you feeling okay?” He asked softly, his eyes darting over her to assess her physical condition.
“Oh sure. I’m fine. Just daydreaming I guess.” She shrugged her shoulders delicately.
“That can be dangerous in our profession, you know?” Lee reached over and pushed a stray curl from her face. “What are you dreaming about?”
Still holding the now mangled flower petal between her fingers, Amanda just shook her head. “Two sides of a petal, Lee. Just two sides of a petal.”
His puzzled look only served to amuse her and she leaned forward to press her mouth against his gently and ran her fingers over his jaw. Easing back, she caressed the smooth tanned face she held in her hand and chuckled ruefully. Inspiration struck her as she looked upon her husband of some years.
“I have an idea, Lee. Tomorrow is Saturday. Let’s sleep in, hmmm?” And she brushed her fingertips over his beloved face once more.
THE END
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: The characters of SMK belong to Shoot the Moon Productions. I’m making no profit from this venture.
Notes: This is so short, that I’m almost ashamed to call it fiction. Let’s just call it drabble, hmm? *** denote start and stop of flashback.
Notes: This is so short, that I’m almost ashamed to call it fiction. Let’s just call it drabble, hmm? *** denote start and stop of flashback.