Next part of my N-I-P

Three Am - the so-called Devil's hour. The bars had closed their once welcoming doors, forcing their inhabitants to roam the streets, innebriated, with bellies grumbling for salvation. We walked hand-in-hand along the Avenue, an anomaly untouched by the raucous of the night's iniquities. He grasped me tightly, as if to claim me as his own, as if to protect me from the beasts that ran betwixt us.

The lights seemed to burn out one by one as we passed them, announcing that the end had come, and no more life would be found there that evening. How strange, it seemed, that a place once so teeming with life before two AM could so easily transform into a cemetery.

I held onto him ever so tightly, occasionally offering a casual, heartfelt glance up at him, yet his eyes remained focused on the path head. No drunken hub bub of those around us, nor the passion I so greatly attempted to convey could tear him from his mission to get us home safely.

We made our way to the car and he cautiously unlatched his iron grip on me, keeping a careful eye on the surrounding company as he opened the door to let me in. As soon as I had settled, he closed me inside the evening's stage coach and took his own place. He stared foreward, watching the pandemonium unravel before our very eyes. I turned and looked at him, smiling, and laid my hand gently on his forearm.
"Now what?" I asked.

He did not look at me, but simply kept his sight on the parade of intoxication just outside our safe haven.
"I don't know. Want to go to go the diner?"
My smile broadened.
"You're right on my wavelength."
"Yeah...wavelength."

And then, without warning he turned abruptly to face me and pulled me into his arms, kissing me with such a magnificent fervor I felt time itself cease to exist. How could I have been so exceptionally fortuitous as to have found a male counterpart whose lips fit so perfectly with mine? Whose rhythm and syntax and dissonance all blended so exquisitely to the language of lovers I thought only I knew, natively? I allowed my fingers to roam the roots of his hair as his roamed the contours of my frame. In truth, I could have spent the remainder of my lifetime locked inside a car at 3AM, kissing him as barflies hollered, hooped, and banged on the windows outside our precious, encased, little world. But perhaps that's what made it so - it was ours.

The time-space continuum returned to its equillibrium the moment his lips parted mine. I felt myself gasping, unaccustomed to breathing the air of this unfamiliar world I'd managed to escape in that fantastic, brief moment. He turned the key in the ignition and started the car. We sat another moment in silence, watching the late night entertainment. He yawned, made a silly, cock-eyed face then took hold of the wheel. He glanced over at me.
"So, whaddya say, kid?"
I smiled,
"Let's go."
"Okay."

He shifted and we crossed the double lines. I watched the rain fall down in the darkness as we headed towards the next part of our night's adventure. Once in a while, he'd reach over and squeeze my thigh, then I'd do the same to him. We made our way out of the city, where all now lay dead and sleeping, and journeyed to the prime source of our drowsy, sleepless mornings - Valentino's.

By the time we'd finished there, I was certain the birds would be chirping, the paper would be delivered, and I'd need several very strong cups of coffee in order to maintain some level of efficiency in the work place. Exhausting? Of course. Worth every minute? You better believe it, sugar.