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[kent-whitman.livejournal.com]

Though my soul may set in darkness, It will rise in perfect light. I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

Saturday Night, June 2nd
The Mayor's office, then elsewhere

The day started out fine enough; a bright, sunny day filled with promise and no real obligations. Wanda wanted to wake early enough to go to the market to talk to the vendors, Rose was babbling something about strawberries, and since I had no pre-set plans I was more than happy to tag along with my two beautiful girls.

And for a hour or so, it was just as I imagined it would be. Rose's dress and fingers stained red, Wanda chatting and animated... then the first person trotted up to talk to her in worried tones. Then the second. Before long the whole market was abuzz with the news; the Carnival Diabolique had returned. I had no real memory of it, but it seemed that everyone else did, and those memories were not of the kind variety. With a false smile and a tightness around the eyes, Wanda abandoned the market to head to her office and assess the problem...

that was roughly twelve hours ago. Now it's my turn to do damage control. Tommi was happy to come over and watch her favourite 'Niece', and after a story and a goodnight kiss, I grab a bottle of meade and head over to fetch my wife.

The front of the building and main room is dark as I let myself in, but I see a light from the private office in the back. I shake my head and push her door open.

"Madame Mayor, I believe quitting time was several hours ago. Racking up the overtime on the tax payers dime, are we?" I ask with a mock stern look as I lean in the doorway.

Closed

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[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

Things were going well until today; I thought with summer coming I would have more time to spend with my family, but here I am in my office and missing out on an entire day. Damn you Excolo; if we could just leave---

"So I thought I would come over and make sure you did not miss happy hour."

There's a bottle and a smile, and suddenly my guilt recedes into the back of my mind. It's not gone, but it's not prevalent any longer. "I don't deserve you, but I'm awfully glad you're mine." I sigh and hoist myself out of my chair to wrap my arms around his neck. I lean in and kiss him, soft and light... at first. It does not remain that way for long. Before long my hands are tangled in his hair as he crushes me against his body and kisses me hard enough to make me dizzy.

"So... was the plan to come in here, ply me with liquor and then ravage me on my own desk?" I whisper in his ear rather breathlessly.

[kent-whitman.livejournal.com]

I see the emotions as they flicker and recede within her eyes, and as my Wanda rises, she says something about not deserving me. I would scold her for her self-depreciation but my arms are suddenly full of my wife and her lips are against mine and...

Time slips away as it always does when we kiss. With the other few women that I tried to date, kissing them never felt like this. I think that is when I knew there could be no other of me.

"So... was the plan to come in here, ply me with liquor and then ravage me on my own desk?"

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," I reply casually even as I swing around throw her down, gently of course, on her desk. Wanda gasps aloud, then laughs in delight. And it is a tempting thought; what with her sprawled out amongst her papers, hair wild and thrown everywhere. But it was not my original plan.

"Maybe next time, wife." I laugh and pull her back up to a standing position. "I had a better idea. Take a walk with me?" I hold out my hand in invitation, a smile at the corners of my lips.

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

Before I can think, I am sprawled out on my desk and laughing. "If you hadn't thought of it, then I am delighted I can instill such new and wicked ideas in you!" This is decidedly a nicer turn of events in my day.

But not meant to be. I pout at him as he pulls me back up.

"I had a better idea. Take a walk with me?"

How can I resist such a invitation? I quickly slip back on my shoes and take his hand. "Lead away, my love." I murmur, tucking a curl behind my ear.

It's a clear night, and the stars are pinpoints of light against a velvet sky that only glow brighter the further we get from town. It takes a little longer than it used to now that town has grown, but there are still fields where no farm houses encroach... or the light from their windows. Kent leads me to a remote field full of soft grasses, where a blanket and a basket await us.

"Methinks you had this planned." I tease him softly, squeezing his hand then sitting down on the blanket. I hold up my hands to him, and as he takes them, I pull him down to sit next to me and kiss his cheek. "Something tells me I missed an important date?" Now that we are here, I remember he proposed to me on a night quite like tonight in a field rather like this one about two years ago.

[kent-whitman.livejournal.com]

Our lives are so busy most of the time; between work commitments and Rose it seems like some days all we have time to do is fall down exhausted next to each other and fall asleep. We both need stolen moments like this.

"Methinks you had this planned." She grins at me as she sinks down and I grin right back. "Maybe just a little," I admit as I join her on the little quilt island and get a peck for my efforts. I start digging in the basket for the mason jars with the candles in them when she asks her next question.

"Something tells me I missed an important date?" I keep myself busy lighting two candles as my mind races. My birthday was last month, hers is in two weeks or so... married in September... crap! Did I miss---

"Oh!" Laugh as the memory takes hold. "The twenty first. Midsummer, when the fireflies were dancing. One of the best nights of my life." My smile just widens as I uncork the meade, pour her a glass and hand it to her. "Also one of the most nerve wracking." I admit as I take a drink then recline back on my elbows. "What, why?" Chuckle as I take in her surprised, wide eyed expression. "You could not tell? I was worried you might say 'no'."

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

I have to bite my lip so I don't laugh out loud. The specific date slipped my mind, but he forgot completely and I caught him off guard.

"Oh!" Now I laugh and accept my glass as his memory kicks back in. I lay back on the quilt and look at my ring (http://www.etsy.com/listing/100129055/ethical-three-sapphire-wedding-or?ref=sr_gallery_18&ga_search_query=simple+engagement+ring&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_ship_to=US&ga_page=6&ga_search_type=all) in the soft glow of candlelight. I love it, because it's beautiful and simple and so very much... Kent.

Also one of the most nerve wracking." I sit up quickly, shocked. "What, why?" I don't recall him being anything but romantic and confident that night. "You could not tell? I was worried you might say 'no'."

I set down my drink and swing my leg over his so I may straddle his lap and look right into his eyes. My hands cup his face and I lean in to kiss my husband's lips. Again, sweet spins out into sultry. The crickets sing, and the stars shine down, and the world spins on, but time is irrelevant when it is just him and I. By the time we remember to breathe, Kent has my dress unzipped and I am pushing his shirt away from his shoulders.

"My love... how could you ever...?" I shake my head, then laugh. "You are the only man who could ever make me speechless. If you take nothing else in this world as proof that I am absolutely besotted with you, take that as proof."

[kent-whitman.livejournal.com]

There's something quite beguiling about my wife when she loses the ability to be coherent. It is a rare thing to be sure, and usually I am the only one privy to it. Which she confirms in a most endearing way.

"You wear my ring, you share my life, I need no more proof than that. Besides..." I deftly manage to slip her dress over her head, and I am greeted by the sight of Wanda in her bra and panties (http://www.brastop.com/SetDetails.aspx?setId=4725). "I much prefer you when your vocal." My voice has dipped in pitch as I skim her bare arms with my hands and start laying kisses along the line of her shoulder. "Funny... now I am the one struck speechless." I murmur against her skin., my lips wandering lower to the swell of her breast.

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

"Now that is not fair, if I am to be vocal, you should be as well." I nip at his ear then rise to stand in front of him. I look to the left, to the right, all around...

"No one to see us but the stars above, and no one to hear us." Very slowly, I strip away my bra, and slower still, I inch the panties down my hips then kick them over to him. There's something equally liberating, yet terrifying about standing naked in the middle of a field.

"Have anything you'd like to say? Or have you lost your voice?"

[kent-whitman.livejournal.com]

These jeans are suddenly, painfully tight. Wanda is all pale skin and liquid eyes in the weak candle light. The tip of my tongue touches my top lip, and it is a act of pure self restraint to just sit here and ravage her with my eyes alone.

"Have anything you'd like to say? Or have you lost your voice?"

I rise up on my knees and skim my palms and fingers very light up and down her legs, from ankle to hip. I watch her eyelids flutter and she shivers at the sensation. My lips find her hipbone and I slowly place lingering kisses against her flesh. I am rewarded with a soft sigh and Wanda's fingers running through my hair.

With chaste heart, and pure
eyes
I celebrate you, my beauty,
restraining my blood
so that the line
surges and follows
your contour,
and you bed yourself in my verse,
as in woodland, or wave-spume:
earth's perfume,
sea's music.

I recite the poem as my mouth travels across her body. The way she trembles and moves under my touch, it is music and poetry and a magic unto itself. By the time I have risen, I am holding her in my arms to keep her upright. Wanda clings to me as I nip at her neck and gently fondle her breast.

It is not so much light that falls
over the world
extended by your body
its suffocating snow,
as brightness, pouring itself out of you,
as if you were
burning inside.

Under your skin the moon is alive.

I recite the last line against her mouth, and nip at her bottom lip. Wanda moans, and arches her body against mine. I smile and trace my fingernails about the small of her back, and she squirms in a most delightful way.

"Now my lovely wife... let us see if I can make you sing..." I muse aloud as I bear her back down to the quilt.

And indeed... she does.