11. Stretch marks

"We have all night," he mumbled softly, as we lay on the cool white sheets in my hotel room. The ventilator was turning slowly, just for a slight breeze. He, my mature lover, the rock star, was lying beside me. Following the white lines on my tan body, on my thighs, on my belly, on my breasts, with his fingers.  Stretch marks. Earned while bearing child.

"When?" He asked.

"Twelve and eight years ago."

"So beautiful. You are a real woman. A tigress. Striped."

I laughed. A tigress. And he a lion. And both hungry. For each other. Still.

I combed my fingers through his beautiful hair. Nibbled with my lips on his beard. Trying, tasting. Different. Good.

"Twelve, you say?"

"Hmm?"

"Boy or girl?"

"Girl and boy."

"So she is twelve and he is eight." He put his teeth in my belly. "Grrrr." He growled in that low voice of his.

"No," I giggled. "She is eleven still, but yeah, he is eight."

"Do you have a photo?"

He kept staring at the picture of the little girl with the golden brown curls and the amazingly cute dimples and the tan blond boy. His index finger touched the girls cheeks, traced her hair. Then the boy's with his sleek blond hair hanging in his green eyes. Then hers again. He looked up at me. Pensively. Saw my huge worried eyes.
"What's wrong?" He said. "They are the most beautiful kids ever. You must be so proud. Great job, mom."

He turned on his back. Puzzled look on his face. Stood up. And walked to the balcony.

My sea god. The moon outlined his wonderful faun body. He stood there, sculpted by one of the greatest artists. His golden brown hair moved ever so lightly by the fresh breeze. His magnificent profile. I felt my heart skip a beat.

"Let's go swim," he said.

Giggling we went tiptoe through the empty hotel lobby. Wrapped in only a sheet. The beach was deserted and the sea was lit by the full moon. The water was warm but refreshing. No wind, almost no waves. We swam quietly, without moving the calm and smooth surface. Towards each other, eyes locked. He pulled me to him. I heard the water sloshing and his heart beating. My cheek on his chest. His hand on the back of my head, his mouth on my forehead, whispering soft undefined words. I felt safe, happy, so happy. Why. Why so many years wasted.

Then a voice calling from the beach. "Signora! Il perdono Signora, you have a visitor."