She was walking through the mist, it clothed her – draped about her –
the sheerest of garments. Longing suffused her being. She was
yearning for the one who had first stepped out of her dreams...when?

In another life, another time, another world.

His voice drifted through the night fog toward her: “Seek
me, I need you.”

Suddenly he was before her, his hands stroking her like a whisper; gently,
tenderly roaming over the body he knew so well. She came into his
arms eagerly, his body was a refuge, and entwined her hands in the
black, oily hair that lay about his shoulders; folding herself into
him, molding and merging with his skin...his very soul.

His mouth, his tongue tasted like some dark, luscious fruit and when he
[censored] it was as they'd never been parted. Their moans a
medley of mutual surrender and belonging...

She loved him.

She'd never love another.

And she would find him.

Copyright Valjeanne Jeffers 2011 all rights reserved