tis a strange time....

I think it's appropriate that I return to posting on Friday the 13th.

I don't have an explanation for that, I just do.

But here it is.

It's been a long time since Drako and I were together. And to be honest, it wasn't what I went over there for.

H & I are splitting up. That is, he's leaving the environment. He's quick to point out that he's not leaving me or the marriage, but he's got to work some stuff out and he can't do that when we're together.

Fair enough. He's going to rent a room close by and we're going to "date" again. We're going to see if the people we are now can fall in love like the kids we were in the past.

But....the only time he touches me is for sex. Don't get me wrong, the sex has been absolutely incredible. There's no denying that. But I can't remember the last time he just held me, or touched my cheek, or stroked my hair.

And I need that stuff. For me, touching is everything. It's not just contact. It's emotion, it's a calming influence. It's poetry not spoken. It's feeling and meaning, and life, the universe and EVERYTHING.

No, the answer this time is not 42.

For the last week, all I've been thinking is I need that contact. Whenever we're together, I send thought waves to H - please touch me; please hold me; please ... please ... please.

They've never been articulated, so they've never been answered. But I'm not going to beg to be touched, especially not by my husband.

Anyways, for those just joining the party, Wednesdays are our mutual days off. Our bosses thought they were doing something nice for us not realizing that we're at each others throats like Jack Sparrow and Davy Jones. Now that H has made the decision to move out, and soon, he's decided to take the Wednesday shift. Which makes me a little sad, but a whole lot happy. I'm tired of fighting and crying and being a wuss in general.

As previously mentioned in the last entry, I've been putting in extra hours on the night job. Wednesday I took the car, told H I was working extra hours, and went to see Drako. I called to let him know he had twenty minutes before I got there. He buzzed me in, and in the time it took me to climb the stairs to his place, he was back in bed. And Lila was nowhere to be found.

I somehow managed to coax him out of bed for a smoke. When we came back in, we laid on the bed, staring at each other. He put his hand between my thighs, but I shook my head, so he pulled it away, and just curled up behind me, arm around my waist.

And then I went and had an anxiety attack. I started thinking - I shouldn't be here, I should be at home. Maybe I should leave....

I got up for some air. When I came back into the bedroom, I lay on my stomach. What happened next proved to me that I was where I needed to be - hell, where I WANTED to be.

Drako started undoing my bra through my tank top. I told him to stop, but he just shushed me. When all four hooks had been released, his hand came up under the material and he started stroking my back. Nothing heavy, just his fingertips tracing light patterns along my spine, on my neck, down my sides.... I forgot how gentle his touch is, it's been so long.

I just lay there, head on my arms, while he made my skin come alive. It tingled, it sparked, it moved, it sang. And when I rolled onto my side to face him, he stroked my face, along my jawline, down my neck.....and never spoke a word. Neither of us did anything but look at each other, and then, when the emotions got to be too intense for me, I closed my eyes. He leaned in and kissed me, and then continued to make love to me with his fingers, in the most intimate and romantic way I've ever experienced.

He played with my nipple - y'all remember the one right? *wink* then leaned in to taste. I moaned quietly, not wanting to break whatever spell had come over us.

HOW DID HE KNOW?

Was he just going for foreplay, so he'd get laid? Or is that connection that I always thought we had real, and not just a flight of fancy? I can't understand it. Maybe it's not supposed to be understood.

And then, of course, he snuck his hand down the front of my pants, and played with my clit, making me come loudly, violently and gratefully. After that, it lost all gentleness. But was still playful and fun. And after making each other come (me for the third time), I went to get up for a smoke.

He wouldn't let me.

He pulled me back, sitting me on the bed between his legs, and held me, resting his cheek against my back. He planted little kisses along my back, my shoulders and my neck. I almost cried, it was so.....y'know I can't even think of a word for it. Right just seems too weak, and perfect is too flowery.

It was US.

He asked me to join him in the shower, but I declined. I called H to tell him about my panic attack...

and got yelled at.

Yeah, he's definitely doing the right thing by leaving.

And I did the right thing by coming home.