I love the sound of rain on a summer's night.
Coming down on the leaves, the lake, the cover of our tent.
Joined by the chirping of crickets and the croaking of bullfrogs...
No music is more soothing.
And being there with you is just bliss.

I can tell you're a bit disappointed.
This was going to be a magical night.
Our trip was planned months ago,
to catch the early-August meteor showers.
I was to see my first shooting star.
You were to show me where to look.
We would have spent the night gazing at the stars,
or at each other,
whichever.

But it's not meant to be.
The sky's permanently overcast and the rain refuses to relent.
The Perseids simply carry on their invisible trajectory,
without a care in the world.

''We're at the theater. The featured play is unfolding before us, meanwhile the curtain is left down.''

''And all the comedians are mimes?''

You laugh.

''This doesn't have to spoil our night. We can still have some fun.''

And we're off for a late skinny dip.

Getting down to the lake is the tricky part,
the rocky-muddy ***** steep and slick from the rain.

''It's so dark!''

I guess that's why we came here. To stargaze.
Thankfully, there's still a bit of moonlight reflected off the lake to guide us.
I avoid stumbling over the canoe and offer you a hand down the last step.
Before jumping into the water, I turn to look at your perfect naked body,
taking it all in.

Splash!
You're more cautious, dipping your toes to test the water before wading in.
The lake is warm.
You swim to me, careful not to kick too deep.
You don't like feeling the seaweed brush your ankles.
We embrace.
Instantly, I'm aroused by the slippery contact.
And that hunger in your eyes.

Love making is awkward at first, as we struggle to tread water.
Then we get the hang of it, and suddenly it's intense and overwhelming.
Fiercely passionate.
Deliciously tender.
A loon's soft call catches my ear.
Draws me back to the soundscape that surrounds us.
The drizzling of the rain,
the chirping of the crickets,
the croaking of the bullfrogs.
A lovely, ***** chorus.
To which we add our own excited gasps and moans of pleasure.