The snow white cotton of the fresh bed sheets was soft like the untouched inner petals of a rose upon my ivory unknowing flesh. Soft and crisp as freshly fallen snow under foot against his skin and mine. The threads, delicately woven; the gentle petals of an innocent cherry blossom in the light heat of the spring evening.
A subtle scent of white jasmine lingered in the warm dusk air. Fresh. The floral touch in the atmosphere mingled with the smokey tone created by two white waxy candles alight with a gentle flame an ethereal sultry glow in sweeping silver holders embellished with elaborate patterning to innovate a blameless spice to the air. The open door allowed the faultless taste and spring dew to conspire and reach every corner of the chamber.
The large curved ivory fireplace slept idol without an ember in its kindly hearth. Small cherubs guarded the usual heart of heat with angelic wings folded and marble eyes closed. Still. Little boyish curls sat upon their cold faces as they stood and waited. A golden gate of metal divided the sleepy hearth from the rest of the chamber.
Two silken violet curtains veiled an oaken window lattice with clear sheer panes of glass displaying the inky darkness of the night which engulfed the acres of blooming gardens and blossoming orchards; soon to be reawaken by the blessing of dawn and the promise of golden sunlight. As a subtle wind blew through the door, the drapes rustled like the lush green leaves upon cherry, pear and apple trees in the grounds beneath.
The gentle starlight beyond shone into the chamber, twinkling was the wonderful luminance of a thousand candles. The night grew still. The gentle rustling in the leaves and curtains ceased for a time and the happy bubbling of the nearby brook fell quiet and Scott died away. Me and him slept in each other’s arms until dawn broke.