The Dark Stranger

He came to me last night, "The Dark Stranger." They told me to expect him, my mother, and the others. I had no idea. He was so gentle. His kindness stripped me bare, beyond clothing. He knew my body, as I knew his touch. His kisses still burn within me. Somehow, those precious moments awakened me. I will never be the same.
When they told me he would come. I knew it my destiny. My family honor to share the night with mystery. Part of me wondered. Part of me longed. I am two days from marriage, to someone else. Yet, all I can do is remember those moments. I pray my husband has a portion of his skill and tenderness.
At first, I was afraid. His calm, commanding voice set me at ease. It was a spell. He wove around me incantations of flesh and bone, taste and sensation. He commanded me. Finally, when I knew he must leave, I prayed. I prayed he'd come again. While my eyes begged him to stay, my heart let him go. His seed buried within me, growing to life.
This tradition, this family secret, is shared from mother to daughter, generation to generation. Every time, days before marriage, the young woman would be informed. She would wait anxiously for his bidding. She would beg him to never stop. At the coming of the morn, naked longing shares her bed. He is gone.
They say he's an emissary of the king. Some believe he's the king himself. Whomever, as long as I have this moment, these memories, I shall live forever. Though I live a thousand lifetimes, I must believe that one of them will bring me back. Again to this family, to share this dark secret. To know the touch of "The Dark Stranger," once again.