Peter and I spend the night in a mansion. 2

Sorry about that. I had to take a break in the story to pick my beautiful daughter up from the airport. Where were we? Ah yes! The house!

Peter's family house revealed herself to me in the moonlight like a scene out of a movie. And not just any movie. This house was GIANT - and old and beautiful. It looked like the mansions from all of the old black and white movies I loved so much - 'The Philadelphia Story', or 'Sabrina'. It was that kind of a house. I stopped in my tracks, my jaw dropping to the ground.

Peter turned around to see my awe. "Pretty neat, hu?"
I shook my head, 'yes'. Little bit of an understatement.

As Peter showed me through every room of the deserted house, I felt like I was trespassing in one of my own dreams. All the furniture still remained, perfectly arranged in all of the main rooms of the house. The inside looked like one of those movie houses, too. Complete with an entire servants' wing that had it's own separate stairway. That was the only section of the house that was mostly bare. The other rooms had furniture that was straight out those movies, too. Like nothing had been touched since this house's glory days - with Katherine Hepburn types running around in white tennis outfits designed by Edith Head.

We turned on very few lights. Some of them didn't work - or bulbs had simply gone out and not been replaced - so most of the tour was in the movie-like moonlight. There was a slight powder of dust over most of it, but not so very much. It must not have been completely empty for too long. The house reminded me of a strong, elegant old woman. You know those women. They might be 75, or even 80, but they still have impeccable posture, and wear white gloves. They smell like a perfect combination of moth balls, cedar and Chanel number 5.

I was in a movie. Or a dream. This place was so unreal.
And as Peter led me around and saw my delight in every detail of the place, his face revealed how proud he was of bringing me here - of giving me this night.
"Before we go upstairs, I want to show you one more thing..." he said.
"Ok." I gave him my hand, felt half in a trance.
He led me out the back door onto a perfectly soft, damp lawn. Just before us, a little way down, something was sparkling, moving.
"What's that sound?" I asked as we walked towards the back of the yard.
"Well, I imagine it's just the geese. Or the swan."
Sure enough, there they were - two beautiful geese and a swan, waddling right in front of us. They honked a greeting - more movie/dream magic as far as I was concerned - and kept waddling by.
And then I could hear another sound. It was the ocean lapping gently and rythmically up against the back of the yard. The moving sparkle was the ocean in the moonlight. The Long Island Sound. "Maybe that's why it was called a 'sound'", I thought. "Because it sounds so pretty."

We took our shoes off and put our feet in the water. It wasn't TOO cold. Then we sat on the damp grass and just looked. Looked out at that quiet, calming body of water. It was so beautiful. All of it. The water and the sky. The spring smells and the salty smell of the water mixing like a tonic. The sounds of that lapping water and the soft honks of the geese every once in a while, then a turtledove cooing from a high branch.

I snuggled up to Peter. Traced my fingers to the back of his neck, then into his thick hair at the base of it.
"Thank you, Peter." I whispered. (A whisper was imperative, so as not to break the spell) "Thank you for dragging me here."
Peter chuckled really softly, in this way he had of doing. "You're welcome." he said."I thought you'd like it." He looked really happy. "Are you ready for bed yet?" he asked.
I nodded 'yes.'
"Good." He kissed me on the lips. Softly and deeply. "Because...", he continued as he took my face in his hands and kissed me all over my face - my cheeks, my forehead, my nose, my chin, "I intend to take all of your clothes off myself..." (more kisses moving to my ears and neck)"..one by one, very slowly, and do wonderful things to you."
"You do?" I whispered even more softly - under his spell.
"Yes, Jennifer. I'm going to make this a night you will never forget."

I followed Peter through the beautiful dream house, all the way up to the third floor. He took me into a story-book bedroom, right out of the 1930's. There, in the moonlight, he carried out his promise. He peeled off one damp garment at a time. Slowly, gently...kissing every inch of my body as he went.

From the moment I saw this amazing house, everything felt like a dream. Time moved slowly - as slow as can be. My breath entered and exited my body as if I were in some strange element. I might as well have been drugged on some blissful substance - the way that I felt. I had stepped into another world that night. An elegant, old world of grace and black and white fairy tales.

And our love making was no different. Slow and dreamy. Surreal, and yet so sensual. Every touch, every kiss, felt deeply. Every nerve was alive and receptive.

Afterwards, I felt like I was falling into a giant, warm featherbed of sleepy bliss. Every muscle in my body was relaxed, every sense sated, every nerve satisfied. Peter's warm shoulder smelled and felt so perfect and safe and delicious.
He turned his head sleepily to me as if he were falling into the same featherbed - gently being pulled and wrapped into happy sleep.

"I love you.." he barely whispered.
I don't know if I said it back to him, or only thought the words as I passed from one dream into a deeper one, and into the softest sleep I can ever remember.