He led me by the hand through the vast green stalks that scratched my legs. It was the middle of winter, but heat prickled my skin, mixing with the itch from the wheat, making me feel agitated and ready to rip off my skin.

He stopped and in my distraction I nearly knocked him over. He smiled and pulled me closer to him. This kiss, this first kiss had been anticipated so long. It felt like an eternity that his mouth lingered just millimeters from my own, teasing. Finally he drew my lips between his, our tongues exploring each other.

His fingers tugged at the buttons of my dress and we tumbled to the ground with it, crushing the soft green stalks under us. The soil turned arid under the scorching desire from our bodies.

That night I struggled to reach all the raw spots to cover them with calamine lotion. Aching and tired, but happier than I’ve ever been, I walked through the house waiting for the pink film on my skin to dry. Entering my room, a flash of green on my pillow brought a smile to my face, just as his calloused fingers gently trailed over the tingly welts, and I forgot all about my discomfort.