Saturday

Once my packing is complete, I pick up my book to sneak in a chapter as Myka finishes putting away her belongings. I love seeing her so at ease, even if she's just mundanely packing items into her small carry-on bag, brushing her hair, making trips between the bed (where her bag is) and the bathroom. Occasionally, I turn around to watch her think through the process of packing, trying to get everything to fit into the small bag just so. Each time I catch myself watching her, it takes a moment for me to pause and return to my reading, once again becoming easily absorbed in my non-fiction book.

As I quietly and calmly sit, perfectly minding my own business, the book is pulled from my grasp. I am slightly perturbed when I look up to see Myka with the book in her hand, no more than five paces from me on the other side of the room. I chase her over toward the shut bathroom door, the clunk of my boot heels echoing along the hardwood floor. "I was trying to read about the Weimar Republic; such a naughty time." I mention as I approach.

Myka just stands there with her back to the door, gazing at me. A high-pitched chuckle escapes her throat and she directly looks me in the eyes. "Oh really?" My heart catches an extra beat when I realize how close we are to one another. Over the past few days, closeness is something that we have fully embraced, quite literally, in fact. To me, it's still a new and thrilling sensation to be so near one another, even if she did rouse me from my quiet reading time on the sofa. I take a hearty gulp and reach for the book, which I am fortunate to prise from her grasp and toss onto the nearby bed. Now free, my hand then reaches up to Myka's face and caresses her cheek. She audibly gasps at the contact and emits a low moan, closing her eyes as my fingers stroke up and down; her hands then drift to my hips and hold me in the exact spot where the side of my blouse has ridden up, exposing a patch of my fair, freckled skin. It takes Myka a moment to gather herself before she can say anything. She stands there, hands on my hips, holding me in place, looking into my eyes for what seems like an eternity.

"Myka?"

"Hmmm?"

What is she doing…

Myka slowly releases one hand from my hip and casually leans over to the side of my neck to nibble on the sensitive skin, lightly stroking the side of my face with her thumb. Her other hand rests against my hip, precariously trying to keep her balance. She completely distracts me; I'm fairly certain she can actually see where I completely lose my train of thought with her lips on my neck.

"What are we doing?" It comes out as a whisper against the ear of hers that is directly in front of my lips, "I mean, I think I know, but I mean, seriously...what are we doing?" This is easily the most incoherent I have been in my rather extended lifetime. Not that I mind what she's doing, but I just want to know what has (finally) brought this about. She doesn't respond, only kisses the side of my neck again and indulges in observing me once more forget myself. She firmly grasps my hips with both hands and uses her advantageous strength to flip me around against the door, all the while peering straight into my eyes and never breaking contact.

"These past couple of days, I've been waking up in bed next to you. You're next to me, holding me and touching me everywhere a romantic partner should. Okay, almost everywhere or at least pretty close. I'm holding you and subconsciously touching you the way I want you to touch me. You usually have on a tank top that shows me so much of your breasts, you might as well just sleep without a top on. Then your breathing is so heavy and uneven, I know, without a single doubt, that you too are totally turned on all pressed up against me. I breathe in the scent of you against me and it's the sweetest scent I have ever smelled.

"You wake up, clean, get dressed. I do the same. We get breakfast and sit outside on the terrace where we admire the quiet and talk about a whole variety of interesting things. We reminisce, laugh and just talk about our lives. We take walks, read, go get coffee, run errands: we do normal things together, couple-ly things together. It makes me feel loved and normal for once. You'll wear these really sexy scarves (like this one) that are so long I just want to pull you towards me so I can kiss you, and then think it's convenient that you wear them because then you could easily hide the bite barks I leave. I have to admit, I was really enjoying nibbling on your neck a moment ago.

"Over the past couple of days, twice, not once but twice, have I been told by some random person what a sweet couple we are. Remember yesterday? When we were out for a walk and you asked me what that guy wanted? Yes, he was looking for directions and then, once he got them said that we make an incredible couple and it's so clear how much you love me. And the other time was when I was checking on our dinner reservation last night: the maître d asked if we wanted a romantic corner table so I could propose to you. I said yes, partly because, yes, it was romantic, but also because I love being somewhere I can focus only on you. It's clear to people around us, even those we don't know, that we are in love, Helena.

"You wrap us up in a blanket and we snuggle while we read or watch movies. Your legs get all tangled in mine, my body rests pushed against your back, my chin is on your shoulder. It's...heaven...to be holding you like that, to feel you next to me. Even better is when you turn around and curl into me, letting me hold you. I love when you do that.

"I don't want you to think you're some exception: you are who I love. I touch your face, your legs...your breasts, your hair, your stomach. There's no scratchy coarse hairs or dry skin, only you all warm and soft in my hands. It feels so right when you're in my arms, and I know I'm nervous about making the leap into something more with you; however, I rationally know there really isn't anything for me to be nervous about when it comes to us. I am comfortable with you and, yes, terribly in love.

"I guess it's my worry about disappointing you. You got that big, sexy brain of yours that I admire, yet am completely intimidated by. You're smart and witty, an excellent raconteuse with anyone about anything. You speak French beautifully and seem to know a whole other slew of languages in there. You challenge me. We bounce ideas off each other, we joke, we talk about things we'd like to do together...but what is that? In which capacity are we in each other's future? I'm not sure where this is going and what we are. I'm used to well-defined guidelines. I can just feel myself falling into this completely unrealistic pattern of domestic life with you. I mean, it could be real, but I don't know. I don't think you know either. Basically we're a couple in all but name, we've been acting like we are. In fact, we always kind of have been acting like that, now I think about it. Regardless of all those confusing thoughts running through my brain, I'm in love with you, Helena."

The corners of my mouth turn upward into a gentle smile. I'm too overcome with her honesty, with her ability to present it all before me as her hand continues to firmly grip the sides of my hips. My arms shift to go around her shoulders to pull her closer to me; Myka can see that I'm looking for words. For a long time, all I can do is look at her with the utmost love and affection, completely content that we are finally making progress with one another. "To think I had to wait a century to meet someone like you. This is you and me, this is how we are, this is who we are: two impossible souls meeting at a perfect moment. I love you. I love everything about you." I whisper. I look down between us to assess the lack of space between our bodies. Myka's eyes follow mine and then promptly return to my face with a grin.

"And the other aspects of, what would you say…" Myka looks down again as she searches for her own word, "...love?"

"We shall get there; however, I must admit to a certain love of flirting with you...and your breasts."

Myka smiles at the compliment and licks her lips. "You seem to have breasts on the mind today; although I think it's getting to be contagious." Myka reaches forward and clenches the bottom of my scarf, pulling me even closer to her body, but not quite touching me. Her breath ghosts across my cheek and I know fully well that I am breathing deeply with her proximity. "Kiss me." I lunge forward, pressing my mouth to her wet lips. The tiny hairs at the back of my neck raise on end with the sensation of our lips converging. Still grasping the bottom fringes, Myka pulls the sides of my scarf around the back of my body and then rests her hands above the small of my back, crushing herself completely against me with arms encircling my waist. As we kiss and I feel her hands pressing against my back, both spots tingle and send jolts of energy between where we are connected at the lips and those hands around my back. I go to kiss the side of her neck and Myka allows me to nibble along the nape, much like she did to me when we started this whole endeavor. The side of her neck smells most like her; it's the scent I completely associate with Myka.

"114 years…" Myka trails off.

"I have wanted this since I met you."

"Hmm, before or after I put those handcuffs on you?"

I stop to ponder a moment. When did I realize my attraction to her? For that matter, when did I realize I love her? I simply cannot remember a time where I was not drawn to her. "Before. I do love a loaded gun pointed at me by a certain curly-haired vixen."

Myka's hands let go of the scarf and trail down to my two back trouser pockets. "C'mon, get your bag and let's go home." she says, pressing her fingers inside and pushes me even further into her as she captures my mouth once again. My inclination for Myka's kisses are something to which I could easily grow accustomed.

Besides, I don't think we're heading out anytime soon.