It isn’t the sexiest of settings, I realize, sitting there on the deck, looking over the backyard which faces that beautiful lake. The sun is too bright. It hasn’t set behind any mountain as it would have in Colorado, or escaped behind clouds as it would have in Germany. We are in Texas, and Texas, my love, is the home of big sky - miles and miles of sky seen in any direction. Still the music from the stereo we had built into the stone countertop makes me want to dance with you. Some jazz cd, no doubt from my collection.

The grill still smells like a grill - smoke still smoldering there quietly before being lifted into the same breeze which blows the hair across your face and only allows me brief glimpses at the smile you offer me. The wind is cool, offering the slightest of contrasts to the warmth that beats at my back and keeps my skin golden. And that dress, something you would wear in summer, all covered in flowers and fitted in that graceful way that keeps me guessing and teases me at the same time. It flutters around your knees as you gather plates and leave me to the company of the other men.

I wonder at the division of the sexes as we sit, three of us, talking absently with one another as each of our gazes follow you three around the outdoor kitchen. You are laughing, huddled in that group that speaks of closeness, casting glances over your shoulder.

We remain thus for a while, split, each of us cloistered to our own world of masculine or feminine secrets. There is a break in the music, but it goes unnoticed until the lulling notes of our song spill across the deck. I pause, mid-sentence, and glance at you only to see you watching me. A quiet smile plays briefly at my lips and I rise, walking over to you. My palm is open and you slide your hand into mine, your other sliding over my shoulder with artful grace.

My arm slides around you and you stiffen. I am reminded of the marks which line your hips and thighs in vibrant shades of red, blue and purple. For some reason I laugh and you echo it - it is our secret from these people, close, but not in that world with us, not in that unique circle where pleasure and pain mingle.

I pull you closer, but gently, and I am rewarded with your breath on my neck as you relax against me. My lips brush against your temple as we sway, hardly able to do much more than that. Minutes stretch on into infinity.

The sun is lower now and when I open my eyes, I hear the quiet sound of wind rolling off of the lake. The others are curled against each other, watching the water, or something off into the distance. Their way of giving us privacy I suppose. You lift your head and your fingers brush over the crinkled skin around my eyes. It isn’t until then I realize that I’m smiling.

What grace has given me…