Beautiful

That night, as I walked into the room, I was almost trembling; nervous about how he would see me. My black satin lace negligee was covered by a matching satin robe, tightly tied to prevent any unintended exposure.

I’d been preparing for this all day. I’d just taken a bubble bath to soothe my mind- candles illuminated the room, emanating a soft lavender aroma. As I bathed, I took my daily solemn inventory of my scars, remembering the birth of each one as parts of me died. Tears felt slowly into the water, disappearing, worthless, lost. How could anyone think this is beautiful? How could something that originated in such darkness and evil ever be good?

My hands trembled as I added lotion to my skin, creating a sheer separation between those moments and this night that I’d been planning for months since then. God, I hope it’s dark enough in the room…
By the time I opened the bedroom door, he’d already lit all of the candles, prepared the pillow and made a place for me. The soft scent of vanilla and chamomile immediately began to calm me. As I looked up, I noticed his gaze. He looked at me as if there had never existed a woman more beautiful. My heart was racing; I swallowed hard and moved slowly toward him.

It had been months since I’d allowed anyone to touch me. His hands reached out slowly to take mine. He looked at me with so much love and affection. I looked thankfully back at him, gazing into his eyes. His grip tightened gently to assure me. He pulled me closer to him, caressed my hair and then put his hand softly on my cheek. Without a single spoken word, I knew he loved me, I knew this moment was beautiful. I knew that he was going to touch my body, I’d prepared for that. But I didn’t know how I was going to react as he made love to my heart and soul.

Gently, his hand moved to my shoulder, to my arm, and to my waist. I held him back, tears filling my eyes as he untied my belt. The robe dropped to the floor, and I stood there, vulnerable, exposed. The satin-laced negligee was form-fitting and very short-teasingly exposing. “Beautiful. Simply beautiful,” he whispered. My heart melted and I finally exhaled, allowing my body to relax a bit.

He brought his hand gently to my side and guided me onto the bed. He carefully and slowly undressed me, inching my negligee past my hips, my back, my breast, warming my body with his sensual as he exposed skin to the flittering light from the candles. He looked at me, softly, sincerely, deeply ‘Beautiful. Simply beautiful.”

In an instant, the automatic reflexes of my self-consciousness forced my hand up to cover as much of the scarring as possible. And just as quickly, he placed his hand on top of mine and slowly eased them to my side. He held them there, reassuringly. “Why do you hide yourself from me,” he asked gently. The tears began to well up in the bottom of the my eyes as I responded “They are such ugly reminders of the worst moments of my life.”

He leaned in closer, and placed his soft, succulent lips on the tip of the worst of the scars. “With this,” he whispered softly “you became more of who you are today. Scars are a testament healing, survival, resilience, courage…and that’s nothing less than absolutely beautiful.” He bent down and kissed every single inch of each scar. Between his kisses and soft caresses, he whispered over and over again “Rare beauty…Damn; just beautiful.” And in that moment, I felt beautiful.

I sat up to kiss his lips. We embraced, melting and molding into each others’ arms. I was ready to let him be a part of me. I pulled him closer, leaning my body slowly back to meet soft bend of the satin covered pillow. I allowed my body to melt into the bed, releasing my thighs as he lowered his body into mine.

Gently, slowly, he danced with my soul to the most beautiful melody imaginable. The easy rhythm that our bodies assumed flooded my senses with an array of sensual cues. I felt whole. I felt loved. I felt beautiful.