“No cameras tonight?” I ask as I swallow a lump in my throat.

“No distractions,” she says. “Besides, I will have no trouble remembering tonight. No trouble at all.” She buries her face in my hair.

I wrap my arms around her more tightly, press myself to her. It’s a moment of supreme tenderness, before we let this night run away with us. We breathe in unison and even though there are no words spoken between us, we understand what this moment is about. We don’t have to say anything. We do enough talking on Skype. Sometimes deep, exploratory conversations that seem to come out of nowhere but, admittedly, mostly just chatting. Not every conversation can be about intentionally getting to know the other, and just chatting has taught me more about Camille than I ever believed it would.

No more words from now on. Words are for later. Now, we just stare into each other’s eyes and know how much this means to us, how much we love each other and, perhaps, catch a glimpse of our dreams for the future. As heart-rending as this moment is, it confirms one thing for me: Camille Rousseau is my future.

“I want you,” she says. The only words spoken in this bed of silence and tenderness and a love that dances in our eyes and ignites over and over again underneath our skin. I know she means it in more sense than one. I don’t just want her tonight in this bed, this gloriously hard king-sized bed which I have had to get used to, and which gives us enough room to sleep soundly, and enough proximity to come together at any moment of the night. I want her in my life. In my thoughts every second of the day.

To find this sort of companionship, this kinship, with another person is so rare, it doesn’t matter that I will need to make sacrifices. Because I know that in the end I will. And how can it even be called a sacrifice if this is what I’m getting in return?

Camille runs a finger over my arm and I follow its motion with my eyes. It skates back up and on its next stint downward glides gently over my chest, leaving my nipples hard and wanting. No matter how hungry I am for her, tonight cannot be a frenzy of taking what we’ll have to miss, an accumulation of climaxes to savor later. Tonight is all about etching those memories into our brain, slowly and securely, so we will always have them to fall back on when distance does a number on us and times are tough and the longing exceeds our sanity and threatens to drive us crazy.