The Marriage

It began innocently enough. The trip was billed as a cathedral tour after all. We touched down in Heathrow at 10:20 pm. My body thought it was late afternoon, so the next morning I was in the full throws of jet lag when we entered the first historic house of worship. I wondered away from the group, hoping some outside air would rid my brain of its
curdled state.

He sat cross-legged on the ground, his back against an ancient stone wall, a sketch pad in hand and half smile on his face—the kind one wears when amused at an inside joke no one else will understand. His fingers were stained with charcoal, especially the left pinky which he used to blend and shade the shadowed drawing. I wanted to see it. The way he studied the arched pillars as if they told him secrets and then copied down their tales in his little book was too much for my curiosity.

I was almost beside him, intending to take a quick look and be on my way before he noticed my spying. But he looked up.

“If you’re going to peek at the goods, you should at least tell me your name,” he said, mischievous eyes twinkling.

I was caught. I blushed.

“Marian,” I said.

“Well, you’re no maid,” he retorted and returned to his work without a second glance
my way.

“Excuse me?”

“What? Did ya cough, love?” he asked, still not looking up.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Most know what a cough is, even bloody bold Americans.”

“No,” I said, getting more than a little flustered, “The bit about not being a maid.”

He raised his eyes and, starting with the tips of my Cole Haan knee boots, slowly took in every inch of my body. I took his scrutiny with a raised eyebrow, daring him to find something wrong. I knew I was dressed like a lady. I always made sure I presented
that front.

“I’ve never met a maid who looks like you,” he said. “You don’t even have a
proper apron.”

Oh, he meant the housekeeper type of maid. I had taken his bait and swallowed the hook. Involuntarily I bit my crimson-stained bottom lip and turned to go before I made a bigger fool of myself.

“Don’t you want to see the drawing?”

I stopped, retraced my steps and waited. He stood in one fluid motion with the grace of a gymnast and held open the book. I gasped. He hadn’t been drawing the columns at all. He had drawn me. Nude. From every angle. Accurately.

“My name is Kyle,” he said and closed the distance between us with one step.

An old abbot rounded the corner just as he put his lips on mine and I jumped away guiltily.

“There’s to be no fornicating on cathedral grounds,” he croaked at us.

“It’s not fornicating when you’re married, sir,” said Kyle, and pulled me close again.

His fingers were entwining themselves in my hair as he pressed me up against the cold stone wall when the bus horn honked, signaling the end of the tour. I broke the deep kiss. He took my right hand and pressed his lips to the inside of my wrist, feeling my pulse race.

“Farewell Marian who is not a maid,” he said.

“I think this has been the loveliest marriage I’ve ever had,” I called over my shoulder as I ran to catch the waiting bus.

You have Bird to thank for this little post because she assigned me the task of describing how a marriage between me and Kyle @ Mew Tube would begin and end in her recent Game of Tag post. 

36 thoughts on “The Marriage

  1. That was incredibly AWESOME!! I KNEW you would rise to the task!! Thank you so much. I think you captured Kyle perfectly too!! Thank you for playing! You are one cool chick!

  2. Like! As an aside, I’ve always fantasized about having nudes done of myself. It would have to be by someone I was with as opposed to a totally stranger. Something erotic and intimate about the act. Anyway, great story

    • I’ve drawn nudes… in a group setting no less, but have never been the one exposed. But that scene in Titanic rocks. Glad you like the story. Great might be overstating it… lol. It’s just light fun.

  3. wow! i mean seriously, wow! i used to hang out by Canterbury cathedral and sketch all the time. this has to be one of the most romantic posts i have ever read. will you marry me? i guess that is a little forward – maybe we should meet first? let’s say by the ramparts of an old and great cathedral?

  4. Reblogged this on kylemew.com and commented:
    i am so much more than just flattered by this – i am completely freaked out – because i used to sit by canterbury cathedral a lot and do just that. your post makes me wanna propose

  5. Now that was a fun idea!
    And you’ll never guess what – I really did meet my husband at Bristol Cathedral many years ago (and – yes – we did a lot of fornicating)!

  6. Pingback: My Gypsy Dream | Creative Noodling

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