I don’t remember who suggested it. I mean was it Her, was it me, it may have been Him. In all likelihood though, it was the rosé talking. The three of us headed to a table on the sidewalk in front of our favorite cafe. Helena our server saw us coming and waved as she pointed to our favorite table. “Rosé and oysters?” She asked, already knowing our response would be a resounding yes in the warm months, and in the winter months, she brought us Merlot and fried ravioli. But this was deep summer. The humid air enveloped us, connected us by its hot tendrils of wind trying to be a breeze. We were into our second bottle of that beautiful dry rosé when Helena came to the table, lit a candle, and dropped off a basket of warm bread.
He got up from the table and excused himself, and She turned toward me, taking my hand in hers, turning it over, and lightly running the pad of her finger across my palm. We didn’t speak, we just smiled at each other, knowing, feeling, secure. He came back and we tore at the pieces of flaky white bread, breaking through the crust to reach the soft center and then smoothing salty butter across the surface before popping the pieces into our mouths and licking our fingers clean.
Yes. This was my favorite place and my favorite kind of night.
We laughed and talked as the night wore on, Eventually, the breeze did break through, and the air felt more fresh than humid. It made me feel alive as the cool air passed over my warm sweaty skin. Now, She excused herself from the table and He took my hand. His touch was so different from hers. The texture of his skin rougher, his touch firmer. When he looked me in my eyes, our knowing was no less deep than it had been with her. Deep, gorgeous, abundant. He reached up and lay his hand on my cheek. I nuzzled into it and gave him a little wink.
She came back out with Helena and another bottle following her. Before she sat down, she leaned in and kissed him, slow and sensual, just like a summer night rosé cafe kiss should be. It was electrifying to watch. Once in her chair, she leaned toward me and pulled me close. It was my turn to taste her rosé flavored lips.
If you liked this story you might like these as well: