“Zombie,” I called out into the darkness, my voice echoing back at me in a ghostly manner.
“Ox?” the response came reverberating off the cliff walls around us, the voice coming from exactly where I could not see.
“Dude, you know I am night blind and you have the only blooming torch!”
I could hear the crunch of his feet on the sandy soil, so I knew he had to be close, but in this darkness, under a starry sky with no moon he could have been stood right next to me, I’d still not have seen him.
I suddenly felt Zeek reach out and take my hand. My lover for the last two years, I relied on this man for so much more than just the tender love and support he flourished on me. He looked out for me far beyond the expectation of a partner, even beyond the expectation of a wife or a husband. This charming man doted on me. I honestly felt like a prince.
He leaned in and softly kissed me.
“Better?” he asked.
I smiled. “I never said it was bad, just I can not see,” I pointed out.
“Well let me be your eyes then babe.”
“You are too good to me Zombie.” I purred.
“It’s easy when you are my prince baby,” he cooed at me.
I giggled. Zombie, a nick name from his school days, something to do with always getting into class looking like he had not slept the night before, lead me down the pathway. The torch helped, but even though it provided some light, he would still coach me along, warning me of rocks and steps down.
Trips out to watch the sunrise on the cliff top at the Cape Peninsula had become a common occurrence of this relationship. For both of us, romance had become a fundamental part of being together. We lived for these moments, and I cherished listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks below us, feeling the breeze on my face and the warmth of my man’s hand. Seeing the sun rise over the horizon, painting the sky with pinks and oranges and reds is the most beautiful way of feeling at one with the world.
We bumbled along the path in the inky blackness of the morning, those hours when the sky is at its worst, the moon having set, and nature is on pause, awaiting the inevitable march of the dawn as it burns across the heavens bringing warmth and light and daylight to the world we know. We moved for about half a mile, to a place where the rock has naturally been weathered away to create a perfect little nook where two people can just perfectly fit as they snuggle together to await the golden orb of the sun to rise and stamp its mark on the new day.
Zombie laid out a blanket for us to sit on while I unpacked some cushions from my rucksack. Tucked in with these was a cooler with a bottle of Champagne, a little surprise of my own, a way of saying thanks to Zombie for being the remarkable man he is. I know he is partial to a Rose J C Le Roux, so i had decided to splash out a little and treat my honey hunk.
Seats prepared, and the ipod on with some Lionel Ritchie to start we settled down, snuggled up together, wrapped in the blanket protected in the little cranny in the rock. For a while we just sat like that, looking out at the night sky, a canvas of black speckled with luminous dots of white, blinking in a mystical way, as if they were winking their approval of us.
Occasionally we would whisper a comment to each other, or share a quiet kiss. Romance is a wondrous thing. In that single moment, I felt alive, everything felt right, as if I belonged. It was perfect, and probably why this little trip out to the Cape Point had become a tradition. Slowly the sky began to lose its oppressive darkness. The outline of the rocks began to take shape, and bird calls began to fill the still morning air. Below us, the incessant waves crashed and rumbled on the rocks of the shore, a relaxing sound that would lull one into relaxation despite its constant rumble.
When it became light enough to see the bags, I reached out and retrieved the cylindrical cooler, filled with ice and chilly against the skin of my hand. I reached over and passed it to Zombie.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Open it,” I instructed.
He cracked the lid, tipping out a quantity of the melted ice and water to gain access to the bottle. He withdrew it from the sheath, and a giant smile broke out on his face as he spotted the label.
“Oh you sexy, sexy man,” he whispered. “You know me too well.”
He placed down the cooler and bottle and reached over and pulled me into a warm embrace, his lips meeting mine in a kiss, tongues tangling in a duel of dominance.
I broke the moment to catch my breath, asking him, “Are we going to drink or kiss?”
“Oh I think I’d rather kiss if those are my options,” he stated.
“Nah ah,” I retorted. “Drink and then kiss, you will taste better.”
Zombie frowned. “Are you saying I have bad breath?”
“Maybe,” I giggled.
Zombie promptly slapped me on the leg, making me laugh even more. “That’s just rude,” he said.
“Stop making excuses already and pour me a drink.”
He reached out and fiddled with the cork on the bottle. He removed the wire fastener and then aimed the cork upwards as he slowly eased it free. There was a pop followed by an instant stream of bubbles that sprayed over the both of us. Crying out in alarm, we scampered to get up, brushing the spilt champagne from our clothing. Zombie put the bottle down safely and rushed me, locking my legs together in a rugby style tackle as I cried out in surprise.
He carried me a few feet onto a grassy stretch before toppling me to the floor, coming to rest lying on top of me, both of us giggling like school girls.
“Young man, what the devil do you think you are doing,” I panted looking up into his angelic face.
“Showing you who is boss old man,” he replied in a husky voice.
I chuckled to myself as I wrapped my arms around him. He leaned in and once more we shared a long, passionate kiss.
“Get off you big oaf,” I muttered. “I’m getting wet.”
Zombie roared with laughter. “Any woman would be proud of you,” he giggled.
“Oh you dirty tramp,” I responded, heaving him off of me as I got up. “I meant the dew is making my clothes wet you tit.”
He only laughed more at me as I stomped off in mock anger to the blanket.
“Are you going to serve me a drink,” I asked.
“Yes my lord, your wish is my command,” Zombie reached down and retrieved the bottle as I collected up the glasses once more.
We cuddled up once more, sipping on the sweetness of the fermented juices, quietly talking about everything and nothing, passing the moments as dawn surrounded us, the colours spreading through the atmosphere. Day was on its way, the glory of it lying before us, its beauty warming us, searing this unfolding image within the psyche, adding it to the catalogue of happy memories already stored under romantic sun rises in Cape Town.
“Babe I’m afraid you are going to have to finish this bottle by yourself,” Zombie said looking at me.
I frowned at him, smacking my lips together as I savoured the taste of the last drop from my glass.
“Why,” I asked.
“I have to drive home.”
“Ah, that is a point,” I nodded. “We must avoid nearly hitting another deer on the way back.”
“Exactly,” he agreed.
I reached out to the bag and put away my glass as I shrugged my shoulders. Zombie frowned at me, not understanding my intention. I simply took the bottle from him and continued to sup from the neck of the bottle.
“You are a pig,” he teased.
I puckered my lips at him, and he leaned across and gently planted a kiss on my extended mouth. “You love me still,” I pointed out.
“I love you always,” he murmured softly.
We sat quietly as I drank. I found that the drink was rapidly going to my head. I’d not yet eaten and if I am honest it does not take much to get me tipsy. So when we finally began to pack up in the chilly morning sunlight, it was little wonder it was with some difficulty on my part. We eventually agreed it would be simpler if I left it to Zombie and stood off to the side.
I put my hands in my pockets while I waited, watching the beautiful form of my boyfriend and he bent and flexed. I felt rather frisky in the cool of the morning, probably a result of the alcohol coursing through my veins. I was thinking to myself that my man had a rather impressive bum as he was wagging it in my general direction while he worked, and I could feel the effects of my rampant thoughts in my underwear.
Zombie turned and passed me my rucksack. I reached out to take it, a piece of paper fluttering to the floor as I did. Zombie bent to retrieve it, unfolding it and peering at the paper.
“Oi, do not lose this,” he chastised me.
I glanced at the paper, a ticket from the dry cleaners. “Oh heck, my bad,” I slurred.
“Too right,” he frowned at me. “That’s for my best suit, Mr.”
I hiccupped as I looked at him.
“You’re pissed,” he stated.
“Oh I know, and it is wonderful,” I warbled.
He just giggled at me. Hanging onto his shoulder most of the way, I stumbled along behind him. I remember thinking to myself that it was some irony that I was stumbling back towards the car as badly as I had on my way down in the dark. We finally found the Audi where we’d parked it, and stowed the bags into the boot.
I sauntered over to his side of the car and together we posed for a picture on my phone, my arm extended, our faces pressed together. A Facebook picture to celebrate this day for when I got home, another tradition of these early morning jaunts. We then climbed into the car, buckled up and paused to share one last kiss before we headed home to reality, life and closed another chapter on one of many early morning romantic escapades.
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