Ah September with the leaves about to turn golden and crimson. Another Six Sentence Sunday finds widow Carly Evans involved with Chicago’s most eligible bachelor. After months of putting him off, she waits for him in her new home at the edge of Lake Michigan. Rain pounds against the ceiling to floor windows. Dinner grows cold; candles burn down. She calls and calls with no answer to the always prompt Martin Ambrose. Carly closes her eyes and summons her lost beloved husband.
Night descended as Lake Michigan roared against the boulders in a sudden storm. No lamp was lit yet a shimmer of light surrounded me. My eyes opened to what appeared to be a cloak of gold, purple, white and shimmering silver slipped around me, caressing my skin and this time the contact was different. Slow with purpose, each caress communicated thoughts from my beloved and listening, I understood his meaning.
Now the rhythm changed, pressed close bringing familiar heat, sensual tingles in the dark private places of my body; arms, legs, neck, shoulders, breasts, everywhere, over and over again until I burned, yes, burned with desire. And when I reached for ecstasy, the cloak wrapped tighter until I burst open, calling Bob’s name.
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