It was a twenty-four hour flight. I was tired. I was exhausted. I wanted to take a shower and I was excited and nervous to be seeing the magician again. It had been a month since I had been with him and I missed him and I desired him.
He was there to pick me up all by myself. I did not have to pretend to be somebody else. I could embrace him and kiss right then and there without having to worry about any repercussions.
He had cleared his day of any meetings so that the rest of the day was about us. It was lovely to be making love with him again. We made up for that lost month. Each and every time that we were together somehow trying to make up for the thirty years that we were apart.
To continue reading go to, The Illusionist by Ivonne Montijo on amazon.com
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