Book of D: The Love of My Life

Sara and I were not yet dating when this picture was taken, but there was a lot of mutual admiration and respect between us. 

We got each other's sense of humor and love of history, reading, politics, family, and love of love. Respectively, we had each been through heartbreaking relationships. Sara's was more complicated and hurtful than mine. I was in a relationship with someone else when this picture was taken, but the relationship just prior had been such a cacophony of confusion plagued by years of painful reflection and resolution. All I know is that the more time I spent with Sara, the more I wanted to be with her, just to talk and find other things we had in common. It was uncanny how vast our similarities were. Moreover, our  differences made our mutual attraction more sublime. It didn't take long, after Sara and I formed our friendship, to realize that we were each other's answer to the great love we each thought would surely allude us in our lifetime. When I supported her trials at different relationships with others, before our mutual attraction sparked, it came with great care and caution; awareness for her, her beautiful heart, and willingness to risk too much to find her great love. I wasn't jealous, I was just vigilant. I supported Sara's decisions to take chances at meeting others. One time, I even helped Sara pay for a trip to Chicago and loaned her my luggage (lol), so she could meet the person she had been communicating with online. Those pesky little chatroooms back in the day. Haha. I never partook in chat rooms or dating sites myself. Upon meeting Sara, I was with someone (Ronnie) whom had captured my heart, or so I thought. It was more of a physical attraction and probably a rebound relationship. A few months after my chance encounter with Sara, through a mutual friend of ours, I knew the relationship I had with Ronnie was superficial and not going to go further than the stale association it had become. When I started noticing my Sara in a different light other than a friend, my heart woke up and that was pretty much it for me. I made the first move on an evening that found us alone, chitchatting about trivial things. We were both tired. We had each worked earlier that day. I was a team lead at Target, Sara was employed at Mervyns. We had gone to work extremely early. She usually clocked in around 5 am, while I started at 7 am. I'd drive her to work then drive myself to Target. I didn't mind arriving earlier than my shift began because it allowed me time to reflect and plan for the day. I picked Sara up from Mervyns later that day as soon as my shift ended. I don't remember what we did before going home that fateful day. All I remember is being at the townhouse we shared with Ronnie. Ronnie was out galavanting with newfound friends of hers that I couldn't stand. Sara and I were drinking Miller Genuine Draft and snacking on our usual Doritos chips. At one point, I sat on the papasan chair that had traveled with me from San Antonio and had supported me (pardon the pun) through the other failed and grueling relationship, and Sara laid down on the floor. We were both in front of the fireplace and just talking and laughing, but we were getting tired as the night rolled by so passively and gently. We were talking about relationships when I went to the kitchen to get more beer. I had to step over Sara to get to the kitchen. When I returned to get resituated on the papasan, Sara, still laying down on the floor, turned herself over so that her belly was now touching the floor and her upper body was propped up by her elbows so she could see me as we talked. By chance, I looked down at her, and the light of the ambers cast such light on her, and it literally took my breath away. Her shirt was unbuttoned just enough that I saw her breasts. She had a tendency to lay down in this manner, and this night was not the first time that I had caught a glimpse of her breasts, but this was definitely the first time I really and truly noticed them. This was the first time I saw Sara in a different manner. My palms got sweaty, my heart skipped the ole proverbial beat, had I been standing, my knees would have certainly betrayed me and shed light to the sudden attraction I was fighting off for Sara. I got up again on the pretense of grabbing another bottle of spirits, but this time, on my way back, I stopped at Sara's feet, and she rolled over onto her back to look up at me. That's when I took my shot. I knelt down, my knees cradled her waist, I took her arms with my sweaty, nervous hands and placed them high above her head. I gently kissed her neck, and told her she had been looking for something that's been there this whole time. I then got up and sat back down on my friend, papasan. Sara sat up and questioned my actions. I don't remember verbatim what she asked because I was too busy imagining myself tearing her shirt open so that I could see and caress her beautiful breasts. Till this day, I love her breasts and it doesn't take much to rial me up whenever I see them. But, on that night, I wanted to kiss her breasts and to know the very essence of her sexuality. Something told me she was a sensuous lover, but I wouldn't find out that night. It would take a while for the friendship zone to open wide open for us to become lovers, but on that fateful night, I mentally made love to my voluptuous, beautiful Sara. My heart ached as did my own sexual essence; it all beat a million miles a minute, and I worried that my interest would soak through and exude on my friend, papasan, all my passion and sexual sweat. I wanted so much to just rip off her clothes, to touch her everywhere, to place my lips over her entire body, to caress her every being especially her special spot of decadent pleasure. I wanted to see her in agonizing rapture and to feel and taste her sexual ache. I wanted to kiss and taste her down there and to make her feel endless pleasure unlike she had ever known. I wanted her to be mine and mine alone. I wanted to make love to her until she screamed for me to stop so that I could continue to please her with more passion and deeper thrust. I didn't just want her to be mine, I wanted her special place to be mine. I wanted to feel it dripping wet while she yelled out my name and confirmed that she was mine; that her wet, throbbing sex spot was mine and mine alone.