"Where your pleasure is, there is your treasure: where your treasure, there your heart; where your heart, there your happiness."     -Saint Augustine

 

Rochelle’s house is a cozy two-bedroom bungalow off Clement Street. To arrive at the front door, you walk a path bordered on both sides by small plants and green trees, reminiscent of tropical gardens on the islands. You enter a well-appointed living room that looks out on Clement Street. Artwork and curios, tastefully decorating the abode:  things picked up from her travels abroad.  A drawing by Rochelle hangs on the wall along with two expensive painting by Dario.  Beneath one of Dario’s paintings is the couch.  On either side of the couch are floor lamps. The kitchen is small and clean. It would make you think it had never been used, which is not the case, Rochelle is an excellent cook. A small dining area with a table set for four. A colorful cloth covers the teak table. On it sits from time to time candles or a beautiful vase of flowers, picked from the garden on the patio just outside the dining area. The bedroom is large as if a sitting room. A king-size bed dominates the room complimented by an overstuffed chair placed diagonally five feet from the bed.  Dresser and mirrors line one wall and sliding windows line the other side.  A small walk-in closet is to the right of the mirrors. I still don’t understand how all her clothes fit in the closet. A comfortable place is this space.

We settle in.

Two glasses of wine, a half smoked joint of Peruvian Sativa, finds us in the shower lathered from head to toe. I turn her around; her back is to me. As the ribbons of suds cascade down her firm breast like the stream flowing from the mountain side down to the sea, though valleys of wild flowers and hibiscus. Unknown treasures, hidden, out of sight waiting to be discovered, uncovered, enjoyed. I squeeze, pinch and caress her excited nipples. I nuzzle the nape of her neck. My hands follow the flowing water over her smooth flat stomach to a v-shaped patch of closely cropped hair. I bend her forward to let the warm water run down her back. We spend the next tender minutes enjoying soft, sweet love making, turning into prunes.

We dry off and robe...finished the bottle of wine and the Peruvian.

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