When he kissed her, he couldn’t help remembering the first time he’d seen her face. She’d been sitting on a park bench about a block away from his office. Very much out of character, he’d decided to go for a walk during his lunch break instead of heading over to the deli for a sandwich. His midsection, while not the worst anyone had ever seen, seemed, to him, to get flabbier by the day. A quick jaunt through the park, in place of his normal ham and Swiss, would be the perfect remedy.

He pressed his lips gently to hers, savoring the taste. Involuntarily, his hand stroked the back of her head, his fingers tangling in the golden waves. He’d forgotten what he was doing that day. His walk had been purposeful, confident. But when he saw her, the sunlight turning her celestial, he stopped in his tracks. All thoughts of sandwiches went by the wayside as he experienced her presence for the first time, as he thought about what it would be like to love her.

If he was honest, he couldn’t remember what he said during that first conversation. There had been intense heat in his face, but then it was all a blur until the day she married him. He remembered that. He could never forget the moment he had proof, solid, substantial proof, that she loved him back.

His tongue pushed insistently at her teeth. Slowly, her mouth opened to accept it. The electric feeling coursed through his body, as if he’d touched a battery and not his wife. That was the effect she had on him. Losing himself in the moment, he tasted her like he’d never done before, allowing her flavor, a spiced fruit, overwhelm his senses. He was, he knew, the luckiest man alive.

“Hey!” he heard someone say, spoiling the moment. He tore his head away, seeking out the sound. He couldn’t make out a human form, but saw the bobbing beam of a flashlight cut through the darkness. Climbing quickly to his feet, he gave his wife one last look before he bolted. He tripped, in his haste, over the shovel and planted himself face first in the damp soil. He lifted himself and ran, not bothering to wipe the dirt from his eyes. His feet carried him away. Away from the prying eyes of the flashlight. Away from his wife’s loving embrace. Away from the cemetery.

"The Kiss"

Copyright: © 2011 Caris O'Malley


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