The day of his return no longer seems so far away. It skips across the boxes on the calendar, pulling me breathlessly behind. It stands beside him on my doorstep waiting to ring the bell. At any moment I will hear it. My lips part for the welcoming kiss when I throw myself around him in the doorway. Let the world see!

I dream of him more often now and wake up hard and eager, my hand running gently down my chest and over my belly. Surely I, too, fill his nights like this and every new dawn brings a similar awakening.

I force my hands to the mattress beside me, not as a discipline, but to see what I saw in my sleep and to feel what I felt. Not my hands, but his touching me everywhere, and then his mouth - more kisses - and soon the glow of imagined pleasure stirs at the base of my being. I hold my legs open for the happy song of celebration that trills between them. That, too, is his as well as mine, and my fingers clutch the sheets of their own accord.

Just so I imagine him reliving his nighttime visions in the growing light as slumber slowly recedes, and see his lips part for another kiss, the kiss that heralds the act. My lips also part, and my longing reaches out between them.

I feel him lift my legs. Surely he does too.

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