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I believe, it's meant to be, darling.
I watch you when you are sleeping.
You belong with me, do you feel the same?
Am I only dreaming, or is this burning, an Eternal Flame?
The Bangles.

The first thing I did upon walking in my home was jump into the shower, as it had been an extra greasy morning. Once clean and relaxed, I could call Erica. I had a hunch that she called out so we would both be free in the evening.

My after-shower Suave body wash left me feeling wonderfully refreshed and ready. Two months prior, Nick had seen my mint green bottle on the bathroom shelf, then said simply, "Fag." I chuckled at the memory.

Whatever. I'm going to fuck Erica, and you're not...

A noise from the front of the house made me grab a pair of pants, but figuring it was just a salesperson or a Jehovah's Witness at the door, I ignored the knocking. Resuming the routine, I lathered shaving cream on my stubble, then heard Erica calling my name from outside the bathroom window. I froze with my shaver in hand.

"Uhh. Hi Erica. Come on in, through the back door. I'll be out soon."

Shit, she's here. I'm not ready for... whatever she wants. I'm going to blow this for sure...

I heard her enter, then step towards me. Even though I had left the bathroom door open, she politely knocked. "Do you want any help?"

Ninety-nine times out of one-hundred, I would have invited any woman in. Especially one who looked like Erica. She had split the difference between sexy and demure, with loose-fitting workout pants crowned by a bra-less crop top. Minimal makeup muted the effect of her beautifully styled hair.

"Um, no Erica. I'm not ready. Give me a few minutes."

Her pouty frown made me add, "I'm really happy to see you."

She looked me up and down. Clad only in multicolored baggy gym pants, and shaving cream, I still received the Hungry Erica look I came to know and love.

She walked over and lightly kissed me. "Don't take too long, Ray. I have to be home in two hours."

I forced myself to not rush through the shaving, because the razor in my nervous and wobbling hand would surely hack my face to bits.

I'm being ridiculous. Erica is a sure thing. There must be something more going on with me...

The act of carefully shaving, inexplicably brought hidden wisdom from my subconscious. I had only viewed our relationship from my perspective, which was no surprise. My high school counselor had given me an evaluation, and had noticed my difficulty at seeing how my words and actions affect others, as well as an almost complete lack of empathy.

What does Erica want from me? From us?

Judging by our first meeting, I had presumed that she mostly wanted to have sex. While I would happily accommodate her if that were the case, Erica's unfolding personality made me reconsider that conclusion.

The attempt at empathy brought a familiar physical pain behind my eyes. Fortunately, I had figured out ways around it.

I'm really fucked up, heh...

I hated doing organizational stuff like making lists and charts, instead preferring the chaos of working it out in my head.

Let's see...

Erica is eighteen, and I'm six years older than her. I had a huge amount of respect for Alice's maturity over mine, even with me only being four years her junior, and having lived as an adult for a two years.

My sister had boyfriends in their twenties when she was Erica's age. She had raved about the excitement and freedom of being in an adult world, instead of stuck in the high school fishbowl.

Erica doesn't realize how pathetic my life is. No, she's smarter than that. She doesn't care. She just wants to be a part of it, because it still looks more fun than high school life.

The guys Erica has dated have all likely been teens themselves. Even Samuel is only nineteen. I just have to be more adult than them, but not too much.

She probably also hopes for, and expects me to be the best lover she's ever had.

I can do that...

A Ramones tee shirt at the top of a dresser drawer seemed like a good choice, then I entered the living room to see...

Ziggy? What the fuck?

She momentarily looked up from studying a guitar magazine on the rocking chair. "Hi, Ray."

People can get used to any weird situation, so I calmed down and asked, "Are you reading the Eddie Van Halen article?"

She nodded, and went back to learning how he crafted his guitar sound on their new album, 5150.

5150 is police code for a crazy person, Ziggy. Just saying...

Erica came out of the bathroom,  smelling of some kind of lovely perfume. Memories of smell are said to last the longest, and I still remember hers. She lounged on the couch, and opened her arms to me.

Hmm. I guess we're done with small talk...

I leaned over and kissed her, as she pulled me onto her. My glance towards Ziggy, made Erica direct my face back to her. She whispered, "Just ignore her. Ziggy doesn't care or matter. Trust me."

Not having any objections, I settled into a heavy makeout session with her on the couch, and within ten minutes, Erica had removed both our shirts. Her breasts were even more heavenly than I expected. Their sheer volume came as a pleasant surprise, but the firmness exceeded anything I had ever felt before. Yet, they were clearly all natural.

I also found her lovely pastel pink points delightful. They were growers rather than showers, dramatically lengthening, thickening, and wrinkling under the attention of my lips and fingers. While they didn't quite match Alice's stupendous doorknobs, their transformation from barely-there bumps, to large and turgid gumdrops, completely fascinated me.

Eventually she slid a gentle hand down my pants, and took hold of me. My gasp made her giggle slightly, and she looked me in the eye from inches away, as her fingers slowly moved around the most sensitive parts. I could see my lust-filled face reflected in her wide open pupils, and I imagined she had a similar view of her own passion. When she closed her eyes and moaned, I snuck a peek at Ziggy, who had moved on to one of Nick's gun magazines. I resisted the urge to suggest she read the article on 9mm vs .38 special cartridges, instead easing my own hand slowly down Erica's flat lower belly, into her steamy tropical garden. Her back sensually arched as she loudly sucked in her breath. The sight of her nude torso and beautiful ecstasy face, snapped something deep inside me.

My growing lust had stripped away every bit of civilization from me, leaving a primitive animal, operating purely on instinct. In a preview of our future almost nuptials, I smoothly picked Erica up off the couch, then carried her into my bedroom. Completely forgetting her trollish friend in the living room, I left the door open. Ziggy would only be able to hear us, but not see, from where she sat.

Erica's shaking legs could barely support her when I lowered her to the floor, so I laid her hand on my shoulder while removing her pants. The waistband of her plain yet skimpy panties rode high on her perfectly curved hips, making her legs seem even more impossibly long. Remarkably, even with the fullness of her thighs, a slight triangle of daylight shone through her crotch.

A sudden shyness overcame her, and she slightly bent a knee to hide herself. I whispered, "Don't, Erica. You're so beautiful, and I want to see all of you. She nodded, then peeled the panties off her hips, and shook them down to her feet. I spent the next hundred hours exploring her entire naked body with all my senses, viewing, touching, smelling, and tasting her. Hearing Erica's beautiful appreciative noises completed my intimate survey.

Every square inch of Erica sang to my pleasure center, and I praised her over and over, with how much she enthralled me.

Finally the moment had come. I laid her down on the bed, then fished a condom out of my cabinet. Erica smiled, "I'm on the pill."

With nothing left to say, I dropped my pants, then took my place between her breathtaking legs, with one ankle perched on my shoulder.

I don't know how, but this is going to mean so much more than just fucking...

Holding myself at her dewy and inviting portal, I looked her in the eye. A bit-lip nod from Erica gave me the green light to slowly enter her. I immediately felt the familiar pulsing of her climax, accompanied by a quiet, deep pitched, open-mouthed warbling moan. Her legs curled around my back, driving me all the way in, where she paused with a soft gasp.

After her waves subsided, the tears flowed. She spoke as clearly as her trembling lips allowed. "Ray, I've been waiting so long for this. Will you make love to me slowly and forever?"

I began the steady movements, and kissed her gently, "Of course, Erica. This is where I belong."

***************

While we cuddled an hour later, I thought about the uniqueness of our coupling. Sex with my two relatively long-term girlfriends had been drastically different from each other.

Rachel sex had most often been raw, animalistic affairs, with vigorous motions, a fair amount of kink, and loud, roaring climaxes. Occasionally, I had gently made love to her for an hour, but that was usually when she had already worn me out.

Alice was a completely opposite experience. The emotional bond that sex produced between us, meant everything to her, and sex that satisfied her physically, but not emotionally, left her disappointed with me. While often frustrating, her utter bliss when we did it her way, and the intense closeness I felt, made it worthwhile.

Erica was very different. Our coupling could best be described as a sacrament, performing a spiritual act that wove our destinies together. We achieved that state many times in our hundreds of occasions, punctuated by parking my Riviera in a church parking lot at three in the morning, then making love to her in full view of a huge spot-lit cross.

"Erica, that felt... so right to me. Like it was bigger than us. Do you know what I mean?"

Still in a dreamy state, she ran a fingernail around my nipple. "I think so. It was the last piece, in the puzzle of us."

Is she a poet too?

I held my treasured lover tight, until exhaustion from sex and the work day pulled me into a fugue state. Eventually, she rose from the bed to use the bathroom. Lying barely conscious and naked on my back, I reached to her when she returned, then Erica kissed me, and closed my eyelids with her fingers. Through the fog, I heard her getting dressed and walking into the living room. As I faded into a peaceful darkness, she faintly whispered, "Ziggy, come here. You see that man? I love him."

Did I actually hear that, or was it my imagination?

Dreams of love enveloped and took me deep, into the heavenly abyss.

Deeper...

A/N. Erica and I actually said cheesy romantic things like that to each other, and it seemed perfectly natural at the time. She also wrote several very sweet poems for me, months later.

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