>	Jade X Slater
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	Watching
	He watches, the corners of his mouth slightly lifted. Leaning back, he has one arm by his side, hand in his lap, the other stretched across the back of the bench he is sitting on. The light breeze keeps him cool underneath the rays of sunshine beaming down. It is too nice of a day to be indoors, which is what brings them outside. Looking her over from head to toe, his smile widens and shifts in his seat. Starting from the moment she kneels before him, he can't take his eyes off her. He observes, with pride, as she calms herself just as he has taught her. Grace and elegance: two words that never fail to spring to mind when he sees her. Her movements, be it purposeful or involuntary, always seem smooth and natural, like any veteran prima ballerina. His mind wanders back to the first moment he saw her, and their life together since. Her looks can be classed as the girl-next-door: she will never be the next big supermodel. Her beauty comes from within. She has the biggest heart of anyone he knows or has met, and her kindness knows no limits. Her selflessness is true and genuine, she is pure in heart and never fails see the good in others. Never one to hold back, she isn't shy in the least. The mere thought of her wipes away any stress or disappointment that threatens to enter his life. Her presence transports him into a world where only the two of them exist: exactly where he is right now. Pulling himself out of his head, he returns his attention to the present. Seconds, minutes, hours can pass, and he knows, she will stay exactly as she is now. Exposed, waiting, ready for anything he desires. There will be no hesitation, there never is. Such is the power within her unconditional love and trust in him. Drinking her in with his eyes, he examines her for what must be the millionth time, though, as always, it feels like the first. Her eyes lowered, perky breasts rising and falling in rhythm with her even breathing, flat stomach, thighs spread exposing herself to him completely, her sex glistening from her own juices; there is only one word to describe her: perfection. There is no part of her, inside or out, that he doesn't know, that he hasn't touched in one way or another. Shifting even more in his seat as his manhood hardens, he continues to take in his fill of her inviting body before him. Finally, when he can take no more, he stands. With one finger, he lifts her chin and is rewarded with her rich brown eyes, filled with love and desire for him. He stands there, looking down at her, and she waits. Waits with the patience of a saint. In his eyes, that is exactly what she is: a saint, an angel, his muse, his other half. The gift of herself, mind, body, and soul, her gift of complete submission, it is that which completes him and makes him whole.

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