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</div>As if on cue, when the couple entered the courtyard a world of lights ignited to create a dazzling feast for the eyes. The trunks of trees and their dendritic structures, evergreen topiaries, stone statues depicting saints and cherubs — every surface and wintery form glowed from thousands of draped and wound lights. In concert, the array transformed the sleepy cloister space into someplace from a dream — an otherworldly realm of winter magic. They were alone, together in that hallowed place of beauty. The chilled vapor of Bruce's breath puffed out through a roguish smile, his cigar smoldering in the fingers of his right hand. His left arm swept around Sara's shoulders that felt stiffer from the fabric of his long-coat of boiled, Bulgarian wool. Bruce wore his black, lambskin gloves -- an odd sight as he sported his white, button-down and dark-colored, silk tie. He didn't care; Bruce could not feel the cold, not when the heat Sara engendered made him feel as light as the snow that sprinkled the evergreen sprigs at their feet.<br/>
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The hidden garden of lights was known to Bruce for some time. The Lutheran church had created the display the year before, and had been hailed as one of the city's best winter gems. Donations must have been down, and the circuitry was tied to a motion sensor to save on the steep electric bill. Beauty and light in the dead of winter took money to provide, and the unfortunate reality became that most people only saw a darkened courtyard when they passed by on the street. Bruce knew full well that one only needed to take the chance and enter the space, which from the outset appeared plain, ordinary, and otherwise unremarkable. Only when entering did the place come to life, shining bright for all to finally notice and observe in wonder. Some place transformed before one's very eyes into spectacles of unparalleled beauty. Such rare finds were to be treasured, and Bruce tugged his date closer against his chest as his dominating vision swept across the illuminated display.<br/>
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"What do you think?" Bruce's question came with a soft rumble of assurance and devoted interest. His nose mingled in the strands of Sara's blonde hair that draped over her ear, brushing it aside to nuzzle her, playfully. Bruce pressed lips that dripped with care on her earlobe, and the warm breath that followed -- an exhale that carried the barest trace of erotic heat -- washed in the wake of his words. The soft glow from the lights -- one that reflected off of the patches of snow -- gave Sara's face an aura of pure beauty that made her appear nothing less than angelic. Their noses rubbed faintly as Bruce gazed into the woman's eyes of ocean blue, and he noticed the rose color the cold left her tip. The cold of that evening could not have been completely forgotten, and the way Sara had originally departed the restaurant gave the man pause. How long was Sara prepared to endure the cold without saying anything? She clearly was not a fan of the chilled temperature. And then Bruce noticed the way that she looked at him. There was more than love in her eyes; Bruce thought he saw far more: a yearning for him that was only in part sexual. Her placid blue orbs sought his, wondering -- almost pleading. One end of Bruce's lips raised in a smirk of genuine pleasure, for he knew what she wanted. Or, more rigorously, what she desired: his approval. That was why she did not say anything, even when frigid. <i>What else would Sara physically endure for me?</i><br/>​</div><div class="bbm_float fright" style="float:right;margin:0 0 5px 10px">
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</div>Bruce let a lewd glance slip past the good-boy demeanor he promised himself he would adopt for that evening. Bruce and Sara were on a date, and the dominant tried his best to tame the wolf within. But, a man was only as solid as the honesty he brokered with himself. Bruce could not forego his true nature forever, and a budding arousal flourished at the thought that their evening was approaching the zenith -- one located between the sheet in his bedroom. But, the moment had not passed, and the courtyard's lights continued to render Sara in an glow that held Bruce in a mystical trance. She was just ... so beautiful to him. And, that rather surface of assessments was given depth and meaning by Sara's kind soul that he knew was unlike any other. His leather-gloved hand took gentle hold of her cheek and tilted her divine face to meet his. Bruce tenderly set his lip to claim her upper tier, half-closed eyes entranced by the taste of her lips. "Perfect," he uttered, softly. Sara commanded Bruce's full attention then, and the glory of the cloister space had been deleted from Bruce's radar -- Sara had become his total world.