The Morning Prayer
The following short story was published in Best Lesbian Love Stories 2003 by Alyson press.
Seven twenty five – Saturday morning. The night had been another New Yorker hot and muggy, and though we had the two fans angled at the bed so that the air crisscrossed over our bodies, last night’s lovemaking had soaked both the bed and us. The sheet was turned down so that the air from the fans hit us directly. The evaporation from the bed cooled us off as we lay next to each other face up. My left hand was on Esther’s thigh, her right hand on mine.
Our bodies were still new to each other; we had met two months ago in the beginning of May on the dance floor at a friend’s party. And it seemed that we danced around each other for a while, meeting again by chance at a poetry reading and again at the Rubyfruit Bar ‘till I finally got up the nerve to ask her out for coffee.
We spent hours talking on the sofa at the Big Cup, oblivious to the swirl of gay boys around us. The guys behind the counter finally had to kick us out so they could close. Esther was a Chelsea girl, so I walked her to her apartment. As I kissed her at the lobby door, my knees felt like they would buckle under any second. She asked me if I wanted to come upstairs; I declined, saying I was sort of an old-fashioned girl and I wanted our relationship to build slowly, steadily. Knowing full well as I said this that the anticipation leading up to that first time would only serve to fan the fire of our desire.
And so now in mid July, it was a little less than a week since we had begun to fulfill those desires that had taken root with the late-night kisses, the long walks, the reading of poetry to each other that had begun in May. We’d make love for hours, and in the morning our bodies would be exhausted from the lack of sleep. At work, my colleagues would question me when they saw me staring off into the distance, smiling a mysterious, mischievous smile.
Seven thirty. Bong!! The bells from the Transfiguration Church down the block started ringing.
“What the hell is that?” asked Esther.
“Oh! I said. “That’s the bell for the Angelus Dei.”
Without saying a word, I rolled out of bed and headed for the living room and my bookcases. Returning with my St. Joseph’s Daily Missal open in my hand, I said “The Angelus Dei.” “It’s one of the prayers that you can say in the morning, for indulgences, so you spend less time in purgatory burning off minor sins so you can get into heaven faster. Indulgences are sort of like………………religious coupons.”
Esther stared at me, her eyes wide in disbelief, giving me that look I had seen before on the faces of other Jewish lovers.
“What! Alessandra, how would you like it if……….”
“If I were Jewish and someone was constantly pushing their religion, their Christian holidays down my throat,” I said, completing her sentence. That stopped her cold; she wasn’t expecting the speed or accuracy of my acknowledgment.
“Trust me,” I repeated. “Lie down, close your eyes. Come on, do it! Please!”
With an exasperated sigh, she lay back down and shut her eyes.
“I adore you with the most profound humility.”
With my fingertips, I traced the outline of her breastbone, the articulation and slope of her ribs, the fanning out of the fifth and sixth ribs leading to creamy white soft breasts, circled the brown-pink areola surrounding her nipples, the skin of the areola puckered and her nipples stood erect.
“I praise you and give you thanks with all my heart for the favors you have bestowed on me.”
With my tongue, I licked what my fingertips had explored. I sucked and gently bit her nipples, till she let out a deep guttural moan.
“Your goodness has brought me safely to the beginning of this day.”
I brushed and nuzzled her pubic hair and her upper thigh with the side of my head like a grateful cat. This made Esther relax her muscles, her thighs parted like the Red Sea. And then cupping her clit with my lips, I blew a warm gush of air that perfumed the bedroom with the smell of her.
“I offer you my whole being and in particular all my thoughts, words and actions.”
I kissed her now parted lips, our tongues entwined. I gently lay on top of her, her body now pure submission as she whispered, “Amen.”
© 2003 –Vittoria repetto
Posted on March 29, 2010, in alyson, Best Lesbian Love Stories 2003, italian american lesbian poet, italian american poet, NYC lesbian poet, NYC poet, The Morning Prayer, Vittoria repetto, wordpress.com, www.vittoriarepetto.wordpress.com and tagged alyson, Best Lesbian Love Stories 2003, https://vittoriarepetto.wordpress.com, italian american lesbian poet, italian american lesbian writer, italian american poet, NYC lesbian poet, NYC poet, The Morning Prayer, Vittoria repetto, wordpress.com. Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.