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Her hand wandered aimlessly over my chest as she looked into my eyes and I looked into hers. She was lovely. We held hands as we rattled under the city and shared small, and not so small kisses until we stepped out onto the platform at L’Enfant.“My place?” she asked, and I agreed.We changed trains and rattled uptown a bit more before emerging into bright sunshine and row houses. She took me up a small set of stairs and into a brilliantly lit compact foyer. The door was barely closed before we were in each other’s arms again. She dropped her jacket on the floor, and I ran my hands over her bare arms, feeling her shiver. She moaned into my mouth and pulled me closer, her hips grinding against my engorged cock. I let my hands wander across her back and found the tab for the zipper. Slowly, gently, and all the way down to the bottom of the raceway. I retraced the route, my fingers on her bare skin. She broke the kiss, her mouth open, her eyes glassy. I slid the dress from her shoulders,. And this was as infinite a fall as there can possibly be, for in his determination to reach the most unreachable places of her soul, the falling man recognized no bounds or limitations. The only thing he recognized was that the value of her soul was equal to, if not greater than, the efforts necessary to uncover it. And he was willing to put forth great effort, not because he wanted to claim such a thing for himself, but because that was the greatest gift which he could ever conceive of presenting to her. It became self-perpetuating on some levels, for the more of her soul he uncovered, the more he fell in love with her and hungered to clear away the dust that partially obscured its luminescence. And as he fell, he began to realize the strange geometries and abstract physics of love, for while falling represents a descent, to this man there was no higher pinnacle in his life than those times at which he had fallen the hardest. The fall was continuous, unstoppable even if he wished.
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