Sara's Kiss

This is an excerpt from the story of Sara. It is the afternoon of her sixteenth birthday. The party at her house, just a dozen friends, continues outside. The boy she likes has given her the gift of a volume of poetry. While Sara is not experienced, her awareness of boy/girl is keen, and she is seeking.

Absolutely everyone was dancing. My happy friends. Let them.

I drifted off the patio and slipped around the south side of the house. We have a stand of six tamarisk trees there, with an arbor under the spread of their boughs. In my hand, the book of poems. I opened to Sonnet 22. Itís a dense poem. I could see Iíd have to read it a few times to get it.

I felt a presence emerge from the trees. I didnít move, standing upright, the book open in my hands. I lifted my eyes to him. Our gaze did not waver as he approached, slowly, not smiling. He stopped. He took the book from my hands, replaced the bookmark, and set it on the seat of the arbor. His eyes returned to mine. A breeze passed through the trees, like a dream-whisper.

The space between us closed. Our arms did not rise, nor bodies press, just the tilt of my head matching his, opposite. His lips opened mine, so gentle, with one, two, three small urgings. My willingness lay there. I swayed under his mouth as he sought it. With a sigh, I let him slip back and shifted to surround his lips with mine, so it was I, kissing him. Then, with time at standstill, I held steady, to offer only. To let him.

We never touched but with lips. If Venus watched, she might have thought it chaste. Not if she felt my limbs shuddering so, and fire quickening in my core.

When he lifted from the kiss, we stayed joined by the glow of glistening eyes. The last glance pierced deep. I heard the tamarisks whispering again.

He turned and walked away through the trees.


Copyright John Caedan, 2016-2017
All Rights Reserved

For all Season 1 episodes,
visit SaraIRL.com
Comments: john@johncaedan.com


Sara's Kiss

This is an excerpt from the story of Sara. It is the afternoon of her sixteenth birthday. The party at her house, just a dozen friends, continues outside. The boy she likes has given her the gift of a volume of poetry. While Sara is not experienced, her awareness of boy/girl is keen, and she is seeking.

Absolutely everyone was dancing. My happy friends. Let them.

I drifted off the patio and slipped around the south side of the house. We have a stand of six tamarisk trees there, with an arbor under the spread of their boughs. In my hand, the book of poems. I opened to Sonnet 22. Itís a dense poem. I could see Iíd have to read it a few times to get it.

I felt a presence emerge from the trees. I didnít move, standing upright, the book open in my hands. I lifted my eyes to him. Our gaze did not waver as he approached, slowly, not smiling. He stopped. He took the book from my hands, replaced the bookmark, and set it on the seat of the arbor. His eyes returned to mine. A breeze passed through the trees, like a dream-whisper.

The space between us closed. Our arms did not rise, nor bodies press, just the tilt of my head matching his, opposite. His lips opened mine, so gentle, with one, two, three small urgings. My willingness lay there. I swayed under his mouth as he sought it. With a sigh, I let him slip back and shifted to surround his lips with mine, so it was I, kissing him. Then, with time at standstill, I held steady, to offer only. To let him.

We never touched but with lips. If Venus watched, she might have thought it chaste. Not if she felt my limbs shuddering so, and fire quickening in my core.

When he lifted from the kiss, we stayed joined by the glow of glistening eyes. The last glance pierced deep. I heard the tamarisks whispering again.

He turned and walked away through the trees.


Copyright John Caedan, 2016-2017
All Rights Reserved

For all Season 1 episodes,
visit SaraIRL.com
Comments: john@johncaedan.com