It was a warm, sultry, summer’s night. The breeze that blew in through the window, lifting gauzy curtains, carried the hint of rain, making the hot night feel even warmer. The man and woman in the room, however, were too occupied to notice much. Stretched out on the bed, the covers thrown aside, their nude bodies were highlighted by the light of a dim lamp off in the corner. They glimmered with a fine sheen of sweat.
The woman arched up as her partner touched her. “Please, Tim,” she said, her voice full of need. She was beautiful in her hunger, raven hair cascading over the edge of the bed, her breath ragged, her eyes heavy-lidded with want.
The man beside her smiled and let his fingers skirt over the warmth of her tummy, drawing circles around her navel, to just above the dark patch of hair shrouding her womanhood. He bent over and let his tongue flick the delicate cup, wrenching a small gasp from her.
“Please what, Maya?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. He began to trail his mouth up towards her breasts. One hand, though, dipped between her spread thighs, dancing across the soft skin, avoiding her hot center.
She tugged on his hand, trying to draw it up to the part of her that ached to be touched, but he escaped her grasp effortlessly, and gave her a small grin. “Oh no,” he said. “You’re not getting off that easy.”
He rolled half on top of her. Neither of them noticed how the wind blowing through the window picked up speed, or how the breeze had suddenly grown much cooler, perhaps because he was busy assaulting her earlobe, then trailing a string of wet kisses down her throat. She moaned under his assault, oblivious.
Suddenly, there was a loud clap of thunder, startling them both. They froze, both looking toward the window. The first clap was followed by another. Lightning flashed nearby and for a split second illuminated the room, followed shortly afterwards by a loud boom.
“Damn,” he said, rolling off his wife. “Better get ready.” He grabbed at his boxers, tossed a blue gown in her direction, and pulled the sheet over them.
“Maybe...” she said, slipping into the garment.
Suddenly, there was a pounding at the door. “Daddy! Daddy! The sky’s going boom!” said the voice of a small child. “I’m scared!”
“Maybe nothing, he said. He gave her one last, heated look. “You’re not out of it yet, though. We’ll finish this later.” He got up and walked to the door. “I’m coming, Bubby.”
“I hope so,” she said, and got ready to comfort her son.