She lies before you, naked but unashamed. After so long being just friends - and occasionally enemies - you thought she would try to hide herself, cover her breasts with an arm or lay a hand between her legs in embarrassment.

But she lies on your bed, one arm curved behind her head, the other draped casually across her stomach, staring at you as your eyes take in her pale smooth skin. You've seen her in shorts and t shirts, rested your fingers on her bare back as you danced, secretly admired her in a bathing suit.

This is the first time you've seen her completely, totally, breathtakingly naked.

She's more beautiful than you imagined - not that you imagined her naked, at least you tried to avoid it where possible. But even your dreams are nothing compared to what you see before you. You want to touch her but you're strangely afraid that if you do, she might vanish.

She gives you a tiny smile and you know she can read your mind. She's the only woman able to do that; it used to scare you but, over time, you realized you shared a connection with her that you could share with no one else. She made you feel special.

You lie beside her on the bed, leaning on your right elbow to prop your head up, and curl the fingers of your left hand through the one resting on her stomach. You want to ask permission to touch her elsewhere but the words freeze in your mouth. It seems wrong to spoil this with talk.

She twists her hand in yours, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go and you understand that words are unnecessary because, with an encouraging smile, she's giving you the answer to your unasked question.

You rest your palm flat against her stomach; her skin is soft and warm and, as she breathes, your hand rises and falls. It's so quiet and still. You can feel her heart beating; feel the gentle, rhythmic pounding vibrate through her flesh.

It makes you want to feel it closer to the source but that would mean touching her breast and, while you know you'll be doing that soon, you're just not quite ready. You want to get to know the rest of her; want to find all those hidden areas on her body that you've never seen or, even if you had seen, never really noticed.

You slide your hand across her stomach, trailing your thumb in the dip of her navel; unsure where to go from here. Up or down... either way you have to pass by two places that you plan on giving a lot of attention to. Eventually.

But for now you take your hand off her stomach and move it to her face, turning her head towards you. You slide your fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and rub your thumb across her throat, smiling when you feel the beat of her heart here as well. You use your hand to tip her head back, exposing her neck, and you lean down to kiss the gentle flutter.

She moans softly as you brush your mouth over her skin, a deep sigh of contentment, and the vibrations tickle your lips. You pull away and use your fingers to turn her head further to the side, revealing the long curving arc of her creamy neck.

In the hollow behind her ear, you're surprised to see a tiny mole; a minuscule dot marring the beauty of her perfectly white skin. You run your index finger over it and she inhales sharply; when you flick your eyes to her face, she offers you a small smile and the explanation that she's ticklish there.

You grin back, and stroke your finger a little more firmly until she can't hold back the laughter and starts snorting breathlessly as you torment her. After a few more seconds you take pity and stop tickling, replacing your hand with your mouth.

You nuzzle her ear, pressing small delicate kisses on her skin, following the line of the tendons down her neck and over her shoulder. You move slowly along her collarbone, alternating open mouthed kisses with gentle nips of your teeth, slicking your tongue into the hollow of her throat.

When you lift your head, her mouth is right there, pale and pink, lips slightly parted, and you kiss her firmly, dipping your tongue inside; tasting her. Your hand cradles her head once more and you shift on the bed, pressing your fully clothed body against her completely naked one.

Your head is spinning when you pull away, inhaling great gulps of oxygen; you press your forehead against hers, your fingers digging into her shoulder as you struggle to gain control because your body has woken up to the fact that she's naked and is responding in a slightly discomforting way.

You try to ignore the growing pressure in your pants; try to ignore the fact her breasts are plumped up against your chest and that while you've been kissing, your legs have been rubbing against hers. You want her but you want to get to know her first. You want to draw this out, explore her body; explore the parts of her that you've never seen.

You have all the time in the world to make love to her.

You slide your hand across her collarbone and she draws another deep breath when your fingers slip past the swell of her breasts. You stroke a thumb over one nipple, smiling as it stiffens beneath your touch. You move your hand to the other one, wanting to see if it responds just as quickly and your grin widens when it does.

She smiles shyly and it surprises you because you never thought Donna was the shy, demure type of woman; certainly she's coy and alluring, but shy? You briefly wonder if she's shy with other men but quickly banish the thought. There is no one else but you anymore. And anyone in the past was simply an aberration.

You turn your attention back to her breasts, curving a palm under one, resting your thumb once more on the nipple. She shifts her body towards you, a gentle, minute movement, and you take it as a sign that maybe you should taste her.

You bend your head and drop a small kiss on her collarbone; she emits a tiny whimper and, encouraged, you continue kissing downwards, moving your hand so you can taste her nipple. Your tongue flicks out, teasing the tiny bud and her breathing increases slightly; you like it that your mouth on her breast can arouse her so quickly.

It arouses you too; in fact, you're extremely, almost painfully, hard. There's no point in trying to think of things to take your mind off it. You don't want to be distracted. You want to feel as though you'll die if you can't have her because when you do finally sink into her body, it'll be more than worth the wait.

Your tongue slowly teases her nipple, keeping it firm but you're slowly losing feeling in your right arm so, reluctantly, you lift your head away. She gives a tiny mewl of disappointment and you stretch your neck up to kiss her again.

Her lips open invitingly and her tongue twists against yours. You feel dizzy, your head clouding with the sweet taste of her mouth; she moves her body again, stretching out, pressing top to toe against you; naked flesh against cotton and wool. Your left hand slides over her hip, settling into the small of her back as she hooks a leg over yours.

You continue to kiss her; running a hand over her spine, your other arm curving under her shoulder to pull her closer. She buries her head in your neck when you finally break the kiss; her breasts heave against your chest as she gasps for air.

Her legs are tangled through yours and you quickly come to the realization that your cock - still clad in boxer shorts and tuxedo pants - is pressed firmly against a certain part of her body. When you move your hand from her spine to her hip she slides her leg away, falling back onto the bed so your hand rests on the top of her thigh, so close and yet...

She smiles at you, again encouragingly, and you realize that from the time she took off her clothes and lay down in front of you, no words - apart from her confession of being ticklish - have been spoken. The only sounds have been your combined breathing and her soft whimpers mixed with the occasional moan as you've touched her.

For someone who talks for a living and finds it difficult to shut up even when you know you should, you find the silence comforting. Maybe comfort is the wrong word - you feel anything but comfortable; every nerve in your body is on fire. But the silence is adding to the suspense; the anticipation is slowly building, filling you with a burning, desperate need.

You smile at her again, slowly and lazily; she smiles back and drops her head onto the pillow, waiting for you to continue. Since your fingers are still on her thigh, you decide you need to explore her legs and you sit up so you can pay proper attention to them.

Starting with her right leg, moving your hand down towards her toes, your fingers pause by the pale silver scar slashing across her thigh. Quickly, you flick your eyes to her face in query; she smiles and gives you a gentle nod so you trail the very tips of your fingers along puckered flesh, closing your eyes as the memories wash over you.

You don't want to remember how she got it; what you felt, how your heart nearly broke in two when you realized you might lose her. But you do remember and, although the memories hurt, you realize that once she sees your naked chest, she'll be thinking the same thing. A recollection that she could have lost you.

The reminder that you have each other now.

You open your eyes as your fingers locate smooth, undamaged skin once more. A grin spreads across your face when you discover that she has another tiny mole on the inside curve of her ankle. You quickly move to her left leg to see if you can find other unknown things and, on the way back up to her hips, you come across another scar; tiny but still visible just above her knee.

You don't want to break the silence, but you're anxious to know how she hurt herself and when you ask her about it, she smiles in embarrassment and tells you that she nicked the skin shaving her legs. With a laugh, you can't help teasing her about being so uncoordinated but, glaring, she haughtily informs you that she was using her father's razor, she was twelve years old, and it was the very first time she had shaved her legs.

When she adds that she's sure you didn't do too much better when you were learning to shave, you shrug and tell her you never had any problems because you're perfect. She gives you another glare and mutters that when she gets you naked, she's going to find every little thing wrong with you and mock you mercilessly.

The idea of her seeing you naked sends another jolt of desire through you; while you were talking, your fingers had been unconsciously stroking her hipbone again, moving in slow concentric circles closer and closer to there.

Your hand stills when you realize that with another few movements you'd be pretty much past the point of no return. No matter how slowly you want to do this, how much you want to explore every inch of her body before you even think about making love to her, you know once your fingers hit that spot, you probably won't be able to control yourself.

And the first time you have a Donna-induced orgasm, you sure as hell are not going have one in your pants while she watches.

You're desperate to continue your exploration - you still haven't paid any attention to her long, curving spine - but as you stare down at your hand on her hip, you remember that you're going to have forever to get to her body; tonight, you probably only have another five minutes before you completely embarrass yourself in the non ability to control your own arousal.

You look at her face and she smiles, again shyly, and tells you it might be a good idea if you got undressed now. Before she finishes speaking, your hands are pulling your shirt off, your fingers groping at the button on your pants. You strip in record time but when you yank your boxer shorts off and your cock bounces free, she stares at it for a second before covering her face with her hands.

You kneel on the bed next to her, frowning in bewilderment. Her shoulders are shaking and when, suddenly, you suddenly realize she's laughing at you, your erection wilts faster than the time your mom caught you in the bathroom staring at pictures of naked tribeswomen in an old National Geographic. Then it droops even more as you realize you're actually thinking about your mom when a beautiful, naked woman is lying in front of you.

You don't understand why she's laughing at you and you give her a sad look, and apologize for the size of your cock. You tell her you know it's not that big, but definitely isn't so small she can laugh at it. Despite everything you feel about her, you suddenly have a childish desire to hate her for laughing at your manhood.

She drops her hands from her face and shakes her head fiercely; touches your arm and says she isn't laughing at the size of your cock, she's laughing because it's your cock and even though she's not embarrassed to be naked in front of you, for some reason she's self-conscious about seeing you naked.

You tell her that's fine but does she have to laugh when she looks at your cock because not having an erection is really going to hinder any sort of sexual intercourse tonight. You cringe when you say the words, so clinical and scientific, and quickly amend them to 'make love'.

She grins widely and asks if there's anything she can do to help you be able to make luuurve tonight; it's your turn to glare at her as she waggles her eyebrows at you. You tell her it's not funny, you wanted this to be perfect, wanted your first time together to be special and memorable and now she's gone and ruined it by laughing.

Her smile fades, and she props herself up on her elbows - the act of which thrusts her breasts towards you. She says, in that soft gentle voice that never fails to squeeze at your heart, that it is memorable already; that you've both waited so long and there's no chance that laughing will ruin what you two have together.

She sits up and reaches out to you, circling her arms around your neck, pulling you to lie down with her; your naked body half covers hers and, happily, a fresh erection is quickly starting to develop as it presses against her leg.

She whispers in your ear that she's always going to laugh at you no matter what because you make her happy. She can't help feeling excited, loved, aroused and yes, even amused, when you look at her. If she laughs it's only because she can't believe how lucky she is.

You whisper back that the only reason she's lucky is because you yourself are lucky to have her; she wrinkles her nose and says you're speaking nonsense so you better shut up for once and kiss her. You obey, of course, kissing her again and again. Soft gentle kisses segueing into hot, wet, breathless fumbles. You wanted it to be slow but now you can't help running your hands over her shoulders, down her arms, and across her back as you roll around the bed like two frantic teenagers.

You pull away from her mouth and latch onto her throat, showering the ticklish spot on her neck with damp kisses; she wraps her arms around your back as your left hand trails down her body, over her stomach, and across her hips. She gasps as your fingers slip between her legs and she pushes her hips towards you, urging your hand deeper.

She's hot and wet and, as you rub your thumb over her clit, she growls - a soft purring rumble that vibrates through her chest; when you press harder the growl changes into breathless grunts, her fingernails digging into your back. When she hisses your name, your erection springs to full attention; you know you probably can't keep in control for much longer.

Physical protection is unnecessary; both of you have been without partners for years and, earlier that evening, she'd casually mentioned that she was on the Pill. You're glad the conversation was so easy, an idle drop in during the hours spent talking nonsense over dinner. Glad because now you don't have to go searching for a condom while she watches, and then discovering the expiration date was last year.

You're glad because it means you can make love to her with nothing between you. Physically, mentally... emotionally. It's just you and Donna, and that's the way you need it to be.

As you continue to stroke her clit, her hand slips down and she wraps her fingers around your erection, her thumb teasing the tip. When you gasp, she smiles, raising her eyebrows in encouragement and you smile in return, and nod, shifting your hips closer. You cover her hand with yours as she helps to guide you inside but the feeling of her burning flesh is overwhelming and you close your eyes as you sink slowly into her body.

She whispers your name, lifting her legs, curling them around your hips; the angle is just so perfect and you continue to gently stroke her clit as you thrust into her. You want to make this last, want to stay buried deep inside her forever; you love her so much that you want to feel every part of her body around you, want to drown in her touch and melt into her soul.

Her fingernails dig into your spine; her legs - locked around your waist - urge you deeper, faster. She's making tiny little breathless whimpers as you flick at her clit and rhythmically thrust into her again and again. You can't keep your head up so you drop it to nuzzle her neck, biting her skin, swiping your tongue across the marks left by your teeth.

You're almost there, almost on the edge and you increase the speed of your fingers, determined that she'll come with you, desperate to feel her body shaking with orgasm, and worried that you'll finish before her and she'll be disappointed.

The anxiety is short lived, however, when she sighs deep and slow; a breathy moan of pleasure and her body shudders beneath you. Her mouth seeks out yours, tongue slipping inside; her hips match your thrusts and she gasps against your lips as you continue to massage her clit.

Losing what little ability you have to control your body you let go, exploding in a breathy roar of satisfaction as you come. Her hands slip down over your ass and she holds you firm, keeping you deep inside her body as your thrusts gradually slow down to stillness.

You rest your head on her shoulder and she presses her lips to your hair while you try to catch your breath; your cock, still buried wetly inside her, eventually stops twitching and your heartbeat returns to normal. Or at least as normal as it can be when you have Donna in your arms.

She shifts beneath you; whispers that maybe you need to stop squashing her because she's having trouble breathing and you give her an exhausted smile and reluctantly slide off. As you hand her a tissue from the box on your nightstand, you give her a slightly embarrassed smile; she smiles shyly in return and gives herself a quick clean, then reaches her arms towards you.

You snuggle against her once more and, as you lie with your arms wrapped around body, fingers stroking her naked back and her head nestled against your neck, you realize that even though this feels so familiar and comfortable, it's only been three days.

Three days since you took her in your arms and kissed her. It was light and delicate; two pairs of lips brushing against each other. Scared, nervous, wanting. Needing.

She tasted of nothing but she tasted of everything. Everything you never thought you needed; everything you never really cared if you had or not. You started to care.

One kiss, a mere whisper of mouth against mouth and you couldn't breathe as emotions rushed through you. You tried not to stagger as the realization of what was about to happen in your life hit you like a freight train.

It finally became clear to you that she was the one.

Before you touched her, before you kissed her, before you made love to her, did you ever believe in the one? Was it just an idle fantasy based on the musings of poetry, sonnets, Italian operas, and romantic movies? They write about it, this feeling you feel, but you know what you feel is so much more. It can't be described because to describe would be to cheapen it somehow. The only question you ask is why it took you so long to realize it was her; why it took so long to open your heart and actually trust in your feelings.

Because your feelings are not shameful. They're not sordid or crude or distasteful. They're real, and she feels them too; they're something the two of you share that no one else can and it fills your head with a dizzy realization that you're not alone.

You never felt alone before, not really. Surrounded by people you love, people who love you. Your life was filled with activity, buzzing from place to place, networking, interacting. Physically, you were only alone at night and even then it was only when you were single. You never felt alone emotionally because any emotions you felt, you buried away, unable - unwilling - to deal with.

But three days ago you touched her arm, wrapped your fingers around her wrist and brought her close to you. You tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, she turned her face to your palm, and you cradled her cheek. When you stroked your thumb across her lips and she tilted her head up... that's when you knew that you had been alone. In a way you had never realized. And yet you knew the minute you kissed her, that loneliness would fade away and you would be whole.

You would be found.

The realization that you were right where you always wanted to be, even if you never knew it before, flowed through you like a drug. You felt extraordinarily safe in her arms; protected, loved, at peace almost. You'd finally belong to someone who, in return, belongs to you and your only regret was why you had waited so long; why you had never seen what was right in front of you.

Three days ago you kissed her for the first time, and her body melted into yours and you felt as though you were drowning. You wanted to drown; wanted to fall into her soul, wanted to brand her skin with your touch. Wanted her to brand yours. You felt as though you were drowning and it was long and slow, like sliding into a hot bath, feeling the warmth enclose over your head. You couldn't breathe and your soul was screaming. Your toes tingled; your heart pounded in tandem with hers.

You kissed her again, and the world melted away into nothing; it was the two of you floating in an empty space. Time slowed to a standstill, the noises in the bullpen faded into a hazy blur. There was only you. There was only Donna.

When your lips met hers a third time, and she leant against you with a soft whimpering sigh, you knew she was your future; you could achieve anything with her beside you. For years she was behind you, propping you up, supporting you. Calming your rants, raves; your meltdowns. Smiling at your achievements; laughing at your jokes.

Three kisses and you needed her beside you; needed to do everything now with her approval, her agreement. You wanted to be able to look after her the way she looked after you. You wanted to go to sleep with her wrapped in your arms and wake up the same way.

You wanted to share long leisurely breakfasts, rub her feet after a long day, cuddle up on the sofa and watch movies late at night. You wanted to make love to her for hours.

Three days ago, in your office, it would have been so easy to continue kissing her, push her backwards until she was pressed against the wall, rip open her shirt, and do things that would make her eyes roll into the back of her head. But while the thought crossed your mind as her tongue tentatively touched yours, the moment was brief and it vanished before you could act on it.

Because you didn't want to just fuck her. You'd fucked other women before; you have no objection to passionate spontaneous sex. You just didn't want to do that with Donna. You didn't want your first time to be rough. You didn't want it to be against a wall in your office, fingers grabbing at buttons while she stared vacantly over your shoulder as you frantically thrust into her.

You wanted the beginning of the rest of your life to be perfect. No regrets. And as you stood in your office, hands holding her face, you stared into her eyes and she stared back, her lips curving into a soft smile.

You wanted to say something; anything. You wanted to be witty, clever, snarky - it didn't matter. You just wanted to say something to express what you were feeling. As she stared at you, you realized everything you were feeling could be condensed into three whispered words.

"I love you."

Three days ago, her smile widened into a grin and she started laughing but her eyes were filled with tears that splashed on her pale cheeks. You used a thumb to brush them away, oddly worried for some reason, until she whispered that she loved you too.

You told her that you wanted her, needed her more than life itself; said you were desperate to touch her, hold her, make love to her but if you did anything right then and there you'd probably both regret it. This was too new, too exciting, too precious to ruin by a five minute fuck.

She giggled softly when you said fuck and asked you how long you were willing to wait; when you replied that you'd waited your whole life to love someone like her, she smiled at you again, and wrapped her arms around your neck, fingers toying with your hair.

She pressed her lips against your ear and whispered that you both had forever so it didn't matter when it happened. Her tongue gently teased the skin on your throat and you struggled to control your desire to push her backwards over the desk.

Three days ago you told her you wanted to take her on a date, buy her flowers, chocolates; romance her. You wanted to do everything right for once. You told her to spend hours getting ready, doing all the girly things, and you were going to rent a limousine and pick her up from her apartment so you could wine and dine her.

She nuzzled against your neck and murmured that she knew you were a closet romantic deep down; that a date like that would be wonderful but she didn't need it to know you loved her. She kissed your throat softly then pulled back with a smile and told you that in three days it would be Saturday and Saturdays were a good night to go on a date. She smiled again and added that in four days time it would be Sunday and Sunday mornings were best spent lazing in bed with someone you loved.

It's been three, no... now four days since you first kissed her but it feels like seconds. You remember everything. You'll always remember everything.

You lie with your arms wrapped around her and, as you drift off to sleep, you realize that nothing else mattered before. Nothing else matters now but her and how to make her happy.

You have all of today, and the rest of eternity to do so.