Touch
I sat there in the dark and listened to the sound of my own breathing. How did I get here?
I dared not turn my head toward him. I only wanted the moment to last forever. The two of us sat on a stone bench, with the beauty of the garden all around us.
My hand rested on the bench and I closed my eyes.
The intoxicating scent of night blooming jasmine filled my senses.
All I needed to do was to reach out to him, put my hand on his, and that would signal my desire. But I waited.
My fears rose up and swatted out my hopes.
“It’s a warm night.” Kenneth leaned back on the bench and rested his head on the large stone wall behind us. Ivy covered the wall a few feet above where his head rested.
I still didn’t glance directly at him, but caught a glimpse of his hand only inches from mine.
“Yes, it is warm tonight and I expect it’ll be warmer tomorrow.”
I didn’t know what else to say, so I just let the first words that came to my head roll off my tongue and I tried to gather my courage.
Did I read the signs wrong?
Maybe he did not like me and I only imagined his attraction to me. If I made a move and was wrong, I’d feel a fool and if word got out, then I’d be made the laughingstock of the court.
I took a great risk of being here with him alone.
“If you could have anything that you wanted tonight, what would you want?” He turned to look at me and I took him all in.
His raven-black hair, combed back so that not a hair appeared out of place, clean shaven with no sign of stubble, and such warm and inquisitive eyes. He tilted his head ever so slightly to the side as if to hear my response better.
I wanted to touch his hand, grab it in mine, and transport both of us away to another place and time where we could get lost together. I wanted to lose myself in him and forget the prince and my responsibilities.
I wanted to be free.
I took all the jumbled thoughts in my head and replied, “I want—”
To kiss him, to place my lips gently on his, and breathe him in, and feel his arms around me, taking me into his world, and for the night to stretch out for as long as we could make it last.
“Has a cat caught your tongue?” He smiled, and a dimple appeared in his right cheek. He crossed his legs and said, “It’s just the two of us here and I’ll keep your secret safe.”
If I spoke the truth, the words would have power and become real. My words would form ideas that would incite me to action and I would want to throw all caution to the wind.
But the danger of it all excited me and I wanted everything around me to change and fall apart, so that I could escape and be free.
The words formed in my mind, and I knew exactly what to say, but kept quiet. If I misjudged him, then I would excuse myself and go.
Instead I moved my hand closer to his, and reached out my pinky to graze the side of his hand.
Like a bolt of lightning that stretched across the sky, a surge of heat coursed all through me.
My heart beat fast and still I would not look at him. I was too afraid to do so. If I had judged him wrong, I would never forgive myself.
A second passed, then another, and I began to doubt. I needed to withdraw my hand from his, clear my throat, and come up with an excuse that I suddenly felt unwell.
“If you would rather talk about something else, perhaps your favorite fruit or flower? We could do that to pass the time.” He moved his pinky on his left hand to touch mine and his touch energized me.
I turned toward him and his youthful smile told me all I needed to know.
“Or, perhaps, we could just be silent and enjoy the sounds of the night. We could sit here and be still and listen for a while.” I smiled and turned myself toward him.
The moon shone down on us and lit the garden with its magical light. Several paces away, a small circular fountain bubbled, and it reminded me of a babbling brook near where I used to play as a child.
He caressed my hand and the warmth of his touch shot through me and I leaned closer to him.
Before I lost my courage, I embraced him and pulled him close to me. The smell of his musk cologne filled my nostrils with excitement.
If anyone caught us, we would be brought before the prince.
Perhaps my husband would imprison Kenneth, I didn’t really know. I guess it all depended on whether he had had a good time down at the local brothels. He thought I didn’t know, but did he think I was a fool?
Kenneth pulled me closer to him, and wrapped his arms around me in a comforting embrace. He rested his hand on my back, fully covered by my taffeta dress, and then he slowly moved his hand in circles.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
For that moment, the world opened to me in its full splendor and I lost myself in the expectation of not what could be, but what was. I embraced Kenneth, not as a desperate and unloved wife, but with curiosity and joy.
I allowed myself the freedom to be.
He rubbed my back, and I ran my hands through his hair. He then took my arm in his and massaged it with intent, thoughtfulness, and care.
And I ran my fingers down the side of his face, massaged his chin with my thumb, and rested my hands on his shoulders.
We explored each other through caresses and touch, being lost in the warmth of a late summer night.
Around us, a host of crickets and grasshoppers serenaded us with their love song as the moon watched down on us from high above.
We stayed that way for hours, lost in each other, in the discovery of finding someone new.
His scent, the warmth of his touch, and the swift beating of his heart as I rested my hand on his chest—all of this and more, rose up within me, unlocked my fears, and I closed my eyes to take it all in.
If I could have bottled that moment, I would have. I grounded myself in the experience, kicked off my glass slippers, and firmly placed my feet on the ground. At first, the cooler temperature from the stone beneath my feet sent a brief chill through me, and then I relaxed in his arms.
On sensing me letting go, he did the same.
Time passed, as it always does, and he pulled me close and hugged me tight against his chest.
I turned my head toward his ear and whispered, “Thank you.”
“And thank you.” Kenneth let go of me and stood up. He bowed and started to speak, but stopped.
“What is it?” I stood up and slipped back into my glass slippers.
“May I see you again?” The words tumbled out of his mouth just as a rooster crowed at the rising sun.
“Yes, of course.” I smiled at him and he bowed again and then quickly took his leave of me.
He never did ask me about the glass slippers, my magical abilities, and whether it was true if I was really a witch.
But I never did see him again. I learned months later that he had been sent off to fight in the war and had died.
The prince never knew about him. Even after we divorced. I kept my memory of Kenneth a secret and held it close to me.
And now, years later, I still can close my eyes and go back to that night. I shiver as I remember the feel of his two fingers as he gently ran them over my wrist and the warmth of his body as he pressed himself close to me. All of that night is burned in my memory like it all happened just yesterday.
Somehow, without words, his touch healed me in ways I didn’t even know possible.
Not because either of us used magic, but because I let go and became free.
From that night onward, I never looked back.
I still smile when I think of that.