Bridget and I met again. Although it had been a long while since we had seen each other, one could see the spark of love in both of our eyes.

Our meeting was in Frankfurt where she owned a flat. She had bought this property after she had sold part of her fortune which had been left to her by her grandfather when he passed away.

She was rich and for while I could not understand why she was a hostess. She explained that being an Air-hostess was a passion because she naturally loved adventure.

"I always dreamed to travel around the world and being an Air hostess has availed me that opportunity," she told me with a smile.

The conversation now turned to what I had been up to lately. I told her I was doing research on my latest documentary which was about the real origin of Hip- hop music.

There had been a debate on where Hip hop music originated from with some theories suggesting that it came from the Caribbean countries and others saying it was deeply rooted in oral African traditional society.

"You must be very intelligent, she commented after I had told her about my latest expedition.

"I am only knowledge hungry. I always want to know more."

"You're lucky. A person with knowledge cannot be compromised," she observed.  

"You are right. If the world had more people who are knowledgeable, I guess it would be a better place with no poverty, wars and other social injustices.

The terrorists would not manipulate a batch of young men to kill millions of innocent people.

There would not be disasters like global warming because then we would know how to preserve the environment…."

She moved closer as if to suck in more of what I was saying. It had never been my intention to impress this high society lady, but I could see that I had got her eating out of my palms with my intellect.

"I can't resist you. If all men knew how important intelligence and confidence turn on a woman, they would come and get lessons from you," she told me.

I felt lured to her with this compliment. I reached out to her hand and felt the fast pace of her pulse. She must have been excited.

When I drew much closer to her and kissed her full on the mouth, she did not resist me.
On the couch, I began to undress her first filling her firm breasts.

She responded with a pleasurable moan which inspired me to go further down.
By now we were at the same tempo.

Her lips caressing my anatomy like a paint brush on canvas. I was invigorated but I wanted her to continue with her act of redemption of my body, mind and soul.

When she finally let me inside her, there was nothing as comparable as that single moment of the stillness of flesh.

It felt like that first flutter of the wings of a young bird; the hope, joy and glow of a new day. I had slept with women before, but I had never felt this consummate.

And as we both strode on to that peak of triumph, our moans symbolized the mutual love we felt for each other.