Her cool, steely, blue eyes stared cautiously at me. Hesitance was written over expression, as she stood, motionless, waiting for me to make the first move. But I couldn't make my feet work. I was frozen in place by her breathtaking beauty. Mesmerized by her long blonde flowing locks that trickled over her shoulders and down past her breasts. Absolutely captivated by her toned, tight abs that shimmered and glistened through her sheer purple gown. Neither one of us seemed capable of doing anything other than stare. Lost in the endless moment, breathing hitched, palms sweaty, each thinking: “are we really ready for this?”

And then the moment was gone and we crashed into each other, lips catching, hands fumbling for any thing they could grab. There was a glorious thirst for each other as we melded into one. A thirst that I didn't think would ever end, at least, I didn't want it to. I wanted her. Only her, for the end of time. I didn't care that this was wrong, I didn't care that we were young, I didn't care about the consequences, but neither did she.

And when we woke, arms still wrapped together, we had no regrets. No embarrassments. No more fears. We were rubbed emotionally raw with the pure bliss of the love we just shared, never wanting to let the other go.

But one morning, years later, when I awoke to find the bed empty and cold yet again, I could not help but be happy for the passion we'd shared, and I let her memory warm me as I fell back asleep clinging to her smile for just a little bit lon....