The kiss was brief and glancing but we both froze, not in fear rather in anticipation. Mom placed her two hands on my cheeks, cupping my face and pulled me towards her. I waited to see what she would do. She pressed her lips against mine again, softly, her lips resting on mine for several seconds. I waited not responding, then her kiss felt a little harder on my lips, she let out a slight moan, my lips responded, and I could feel her breath deepen against my mouth. Her kiss was soft yet full of sensuality, yet there was a sense of inexperience or nervousness from her. I opened my mouth slightly, sticking my tongue out, brushing her lips, tasting her lipstick, her response was rapid, as if she had been waiting for her queue, her tongue was in my mouth dancing with my own, her breathing getting harder, I could feel her chest rising and falling as we kissed. Her hands began exploring my body, through my clothes. I caressed her skin, running my short nails along her flesh, scratching her. You wonder if the stream will have subsided enough to cross. But how far back is it? And in which direction? It is then that you came to grips with the fact that you were lost. And now, as you look around the room and your eyes begin to focus on the objects in it, you remember. The light in the distance. The shape of the little home forming in the distant darkness as you moved closer. And you remember your first sight of him. The broad flat covered porch that stretched out in front of the house. The crude wooden desk that occupied a corner of the deck. At first it was hard to determine that it was a human being at all. But as you grew closer the lump began to form into a person. A man. Sitting at the desk. Soft light from twin torches drifted back and forth across the rough wood deck. And when his gaze rose to meet you it reflected from his dark brown eyes and danced within his flowing hair. And as he stands you realize that he’s been carving, using traditional Hawaiian tools. You.
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