She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled. A sad smile. Tears formed in her eyes as she remembered…
It was love on first sight the night they met on the dance floor. There was an unmistakable pull between them. They were soon in each others arms, moving to the rhythm of the music and the rhythm of love. When he pulled her from the dance floor after two songs, she did not protest. They walked out into the cool night air on the balcony. As the door closed behind them, he pulled her closer and kissed her. She leaned into him, held onto him and kissed him back. Their tongues explored. Their lips were soft. Their love moved the air around them.
They pulled away from each other. He looked at her and she looked at him. They explored each others faces, drank in every detail.
“I’m Anthony,” he said, daring at last to speak. His deep voice stirred something in her loins.
They hugged. Without a word they left the party, hand in hand. An hour later they were together on his bed. He slowly undressed her. It was her first time, but she was not scared. He unbuttoned her blouse and pushed it from her shoulders. Her rolled on his back, pulling her onto him. Her blouse was pushed down over her arms; her bra unclasped. On her back again he exposed her breasts and gently kissed them. Her skirt followed, then her panties. She was naked. His eyes admired her. It felt completely natural to be naked with him.
He quickly undressed himself, not taking his eyes off her. Naked next to her, his hands wandered over her body, exploring, finding, feeling, touching. She guided his condommed hardness into her. Their eyes were fixed on each other when she felt the sharp pain. She gaped, smiled and pushed her hips upward to meet them. They moved in a different kind of dance now. The dance of love and life, of never-ending togetherness. Hours later they just held each other. Sweaty. Satisfied. Happy. A month later they were engaged. Six months later they got married.
They were together for five blissfully happy years. Five years in which their love grew deeper and stronger. Five years in which they shared many special moments together. Five years in which they were satisfied and making future plans. Five years in which they fulfilled dreams and dreamed new ones. Five years of bliss and love.
Her sad smile still lingered around her mouth as she closed her fingers around the box in her pocket. She turned around and looked back to where she had just came from. There, at the end of the row of graves, was a pile of fresh dirt where she had just buried her husband. Her grip tightened around the box in her pocket. The box with his wedding ring. Silent tears spilled from her eyes. She did not stop them, did not wipe them away. Her tears would eventually dry. The grieving would end. Her life would go on, but she would never forget him and the intense happiness they have shared…
© Rebel’s Notes
The prompt for this week’s Wicked Wednesday was “She touched the little box…”
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