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The door of the house with the cute porch opens. She comes out, jacket on. "Come with me."

Her voice was like honey dripping in the air. My feet stopped moving backwards. She walked towards me, those eyes I had memorized, even better in person. She took my hand and we walked.

Silence filled the air. I wouldn't have been able to pay any mind to words anyways. The way her hand felt in mine was all I could concentrate on. Did another hand ever fit in mine this way? So perfectly.

There was a gas station and a McDonalds. This place was quieter than were I had come from. I could hear the river. She points out a house that used to be an Inn in the early 1900's. She points out others she looked at, some too much money, some had no soul. Houses have souls... I call it character. I liked soul better.

I still hadn't spoken. I was listening to the quiet...and her. I was feeling those electric bolts shoot up my spine with every step. There's a coffee shop and an alleyway.. and a dog that stops barking when she sings "All Star". I'm not a Smashmouth fan...but I could get used to hearing her sing that song.

She tells me the soil is sandy and good for tomatoes. Had I ever told her I used to garden? I finally opened my mouth and spoke. My voice didn't sound like honey, more like a pre-pubescent squeaky girl. (My mother's co-workers used to call me squeak in fact, when I was actually pre-pubescent.)

The gardening was back when I was still homeschooling my kids. My whole front lawn was a garden. Screw mowing a lawn. The kids used to go outside and pick their lunch. Tomatoes a favorite. I don't garden any longer.

She squeezed my hand just a little. The bolts went up my spine and out into the air. I wanted to see if they turned into fireworks above our heads.

She describes what I can't see, at least not until daylight. "It's a sturdy and reliable sort of beauty." I live in New England; I know the beauty of which she speaks. I wonder how her world's beauty compares to my world's.

I already know her own beauty is outshining me. Shining brighter than I ever have, or ever would.

We are back in front of the blue house with the porch. Standing there, we don't move. My feet shuffle, my anxiety needs an escape. A way out.

No invitation to go in comes my way, instead she keeps my hand in hers as she walks up the steps and through the door. Shoes off.

She's only about an inch taller than me, her hair longer. I wanted to run my fingers through it.

Inside. The flooring and woodwork go beyond what I would call character. Yes, this house has a soul. She loves books, the filled bookcases add to the soul within these walls.

"Drink?" Just water thanks. My mouth is dry. My palms sweaty. Knees shaking.

She takes off her coat, I stand awkwardly with mine still on. She leaves the room. My fingers tap on my thigh, my eyes dart around.

She's back, smiling. A glass of water in her hands. I accept it, happy for my hands to have something less weird to do now.

The water is gone. What now? Which one of us would make the first move? Either or neither?

I'm still standing there like the awkward human I am so good at being. "Take off your jacket and stay a while."

A while? How long, exactly, is a while? Is it different out here, in the middle of the country, than it is in New England? It feels like time would be measured here differently. Slower. Deeper.

My backpack is back at the door with my boots. Easy to reach if I have to make a quick exit.

I unzip and remove my black almost-winter jacket. It's not a big, long, puffy jacket like many New Englanders wear. I'm warm blooded. I haven't owned a 'real' winter coat in decades.

I'm exposed, standing there, in her house. Her world. I didn't belong there. Can I have my jacket back please? I feel the need to leave. I would just sit in the airport for the next 46 hours. I had books galore in the Kindle app on my phone. AirPods in my jacket and a playlist to feed my pending heartbreak. I would be fine.

A cat moved into, then out of the room. She had three, just like back at my house.

That lip I had dreamed of tugging on, was inches from me now. My eyes couldn't be controlled and landed on it. It was so suck-able looking. Desire shot through my body. I saw it register in her eyes. Have I mentioned she has the best eyes, and smile, and everything in between? The pictures she sent didn't do her justice.

Two steps, the gap between us closed. I couldn't breathe for wondering what was next.

Her hand slipped back into mine, we walked again. Through rooms I couldn't see, furniture that didn't exist, walls that didn't contain.

A bed. Some chairs. My ears were ringing, my breathing shallow.

Six pillows flanked us. A cat upon one. We sat. Cross legged. Facing each other. If anything else was going on in the world, I was oblivious. She was the only thing in existence.

We may have leaned in at the same time, I wasn't sure, but finally, that lower lip was within reach. A kiss. Simple. Gentle. Warm. More please.

More. Deep. Probing. Plunging. Yes please. More. Up. Clothes scatter. More.

I pulled that lip in. Held it captive as I had dreamed about so many times. Reality was better than dreams. Dreams come true in the middle of America.

I pulled her up, kissed every bit of her I could reach... every bit. Her skin tasted like her voice.. honey. Did every part of her taste this way? I moved to find out. Not exactly honey, better.

We took turns with tongues and hands. My skin was on fire everywhere hers touched it. Maybe it was desire. Need. Lust. Maybe it was the friction of our movements. Maybe it was the fire of orgasm. It was all of this and more.

Exhausted, I fell onto my side upon the sheets. Didn't bother to avoid the soaked spot in the middle. Pulled her closer, or did she pull me?

I leaned on my elbow, the sheet covering my hip loosely. I didn't even care that this position highlighted the less-than-perky ness of my breasts. I was too busy staring into her eyes. Watching that lower lip.

My eyes stayed locked on her as I laid down, exhaustion pulling us both down deeper. Into sleep. The sound of her heartbeat, the rhythm of her breathing pulled me down further.

Daylight poked through the window. My eyes slowly opened. I didn't want to wake from the perfection of what I was certain, was a dream. One eye opened. I wasn't alone. Two opened, still not alone. Not a dream.. or at least in the usual way one dreams.

She smiles. I smile back. I asked where her bathroom was. Were we alone? Yes.

I walked naked through rooms I didn't notice the night before. Found my bag. My toothbrush. Brushed my teeth. Didn't bother locating my clothes on the way back to her bed. I had no intention of needing them.

Walking into her room, the bed has been straightened out. Pillows arranged, cats now perched upon them. How quickly the evidence of our evening had been erased.

I stood there awkwardly for a split second. Did she not want me back in her bed? She turned; I bit my lip at the sight of her. No longer awkwardly standing there, I closed the distance between us, took her lower lip as mine again. Removed the covers from the bed. She didn't protest.