A Snog For Sommer

Hello, smooch fans. Welcome to Suffused with Heat and thanks for coming. This lovely little fundraiser has made me question whether there is much kissing in my stories, and wonder why the hell not, seeing as I think kissing might just be the best part of all of it. Of it all.

I was out in the most remarkable evening this evening, and a delightful thought for a flash for you came to me. So here it is, just for you, just for Sommer.

He was such a sweetie, Mattie, with his silky black hair and wide, laughing mouth always smiling hello, happy to see me. His owner was pretty cute too, young, bearded, dark blond hair falling onto his shoulders. He was as sweet as his dog, always friendly when our paths crossed, ready for a chat. Mattie's happy bark tended to lift my day when I heard it echo across the grass as he raced to meet my shaggy little mutt Dexter. They would race and roll and yip and tumble and Shane and I would laugh at their antics and look on fondly like proud parents at the playground. 

It took me a while to remember his name - For some reason, I can remember the dogs' names more easily than their humans'. I'm not sure what that says about me. But after a few meetings when our walkies schedules had seemed to have aligned, those chance meetings fast became something I looked forward to. 

Last week I went out on a Saturday evening. Oh, it was beautiful. We walk on a hillside above the sea, along a grassy path. In the Spring the gorse scents the air and the whitethorn bushes are in full flower; now it's Autumn and there are ripening berries all around, little wild, white lilies peeping from thick foliage and evening mist that lies thick in the bowl between the mountains that lead down to the bay. Tonight the mist spread out to sea, blurring the horizon and holding the colours of the sunset above it - the sky was fluffy with purple clouds and streaks of pink over the mountains. Mist lay all around, the air was thick with it, fragrant and completely still. Everything glowed, the moisture in the air caught the light of the sun as it slid behind the mountains. The trees seemed to be giving up their secrets into that still, damp air. 

As I walked in this magic evening I was glad of the solitude, the silence of this evening. It felt altogether fairy tale like, part of a fantasy adventure. There is such pleasure in being out of doors, somewhere beautiful - nowhere does it feel more like being in your own narrative. But when Shane rounded a corner, and Mattie leapt through the long grass towards Dexter with a joyful woof, I felt my heart jump happily too. We approached, and smiled  greetings, and exchanged mutual opinions on the magic of the night that was in it. The sunlight was waning, dusk threatened. And then some spell of the green scented, purple misted evening settled around us, and when Shane leaned in to pull a bug from my hair. His fingers lingered on the strands, I reached up to touch his arm, holding him there. 

  'Oh,' he said, bending his head to me. 'Oh, it would just be perfect if...' 

And I stroked my fingers over his soft lips, drew them over his cheek and the short, rough hair there. He closed the distance between our mouths, brushed my lips with his. I tasted his breath and reached up closer to catch his full lower lip, to tease another beautiful, endless second before turning the moment into a real kiss. A point of no return, where nothing could be claimed as accidental, intentional kiss. His hand rested firm at the base of my back and pulled me closer and his tongue touched mine. As soon as it did, the mist filled my head, that perfect dizziness enveloped me while my blood rushed south to throb in my abdomen and leave me wanting so much more. I swayed and pulled back, to touch my lips to his again, once, twice. To bite at his jaw so gently.

 It was nearly dark, I realised, as I opened my eyes. The dogs were sitting quietly, staring at us in confusion. It was time to go. We walked towards the gate as we had done so often before, but this time Shane reached down without a word, and took my hand. 

If you go to this site, you can see 50 plus other writers' exerpts and donate whatever you like towards helping Sommer worry about one less thing and showing her we care about what she and her family are going through. I'd donate a book, but given that I live in Ireland, I'd rather just send the postage straight to her - but if you leave a comment, I'd be happy to draw a name to send a story to on file. Just comment and leave your address, or send it to me at vidabailey@gmail.com and I'll send the lucky winner a choice of Torn, my F/m story from Love at First Sting,  Girls' Night Out from Morning Noon and Night or The Sweetshop Owner's Daughter from Sommer's own Dirtyville anthology.