Summertime, sung by Janis Joplin and Big Brother & The Holding Company- one of her greatest hits. That witchly screech, those soulful squeals and passionate squawks before the mother of all guitar solos that seemed to strum and tune down there.
The apartment was sweltering, the air conditioning having broken early in the night and Christian and I had done nothing about it. Sweltry between the sheets, almost unbearable, then cold water spurting from Evian bottles and giggles to accompany.
And now we were in the living room, the sinful Summer sun scorching through the floor-to-ceiling windows, irradiating our slow-dancing bodies. Christian was in his black slacks and an untucked white shirt, top button undone. I was in a mid-thigh, silk, purple dressing gown. We soft-stepped side to side, warm foreheads touching, fingers twisting and slipping over one another's palms, our breathing moistening our lips. Our hips swayed so gently, so sensually together.
I took my hands from his and stroked down his torso over his shirt and he shivered, smiling, his hands coming to rest just above my behind.