“No! Please stop it,” I begged. I was begging as hard as I had ever done in my life. Which made sense because I was begging for my life and for the life of the man I was set to marry in six short months.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Damn, I am one lucky man,” Justin said as he smiled broadly and watched me shrug off my pea coat while walking into his house. I draped my coat over a kitchen chair and took two small steps to give him a kiss hello.

“Yes, you are,” I replied, pulling back from our kiss but keeping my arms wrapped loosely around his neck. “This dinner is going to be the best meal you’ve ever eaten in your entire life.”

“Yeah, well when you’ve been dating someone for the past five years and the best thing they can cook is grilled cheese, that’s not saying much.”

I scoffed and playfully swatted at his shoulder. It’s no secret that I am very challenged in the kitchen although my mother has given her best efforts to teach me how to cook, starting with the basics. It’s just not my thing.

“Are you ready? I figured we could walk so we can both get nice and drunk and take advantage of each other,” Justin said with a wink.

“Sounds perfect.” I threw my coat back on and pulled some gloves out of my bag as he went to the closet to grab his coat and a hat. “We’ll need to get nice and drunk, otherwise our blood will freeze out there tonight.” It was a standard January night in New York at a freezing 28 degrees.

We walked briskly through the cold night air towards the restaurant a few blocks away from Justin’s house, idly chatting about our days.

It was January 30, the day before Justin’s 30th birthday. We were headed to Taste, a new chic restaurant with delicious food and a pricey menu. Every year since we had been together, it was tradition to take the other out to a nice restaurant for our birthdays. So this was part of my birthday treat for my wonderful man.

We ordered a bottle of wine after being seated. This is the kind of place that if you don’t have a reservation, you will not be eating dinner. It was packed for a Sunday night but we were snuggled into a corner table

“A toast to you, my amazingly smart, successful, handsome fiancé,” I said as we locked eyes and I raised my wine glass slightly. “Happy birthday baby, I love you.”

Justin smiled, showing his pearly whites, a feat that still takes my breath away. “Thank you m’lady. I love you.” We clinked glasses and each took a sip.

Dinner was delicious, a second bottle of wine was ordered and finished, and we forced ourselves to stuff exquisite cheesecake into our mouths. After paying the bill and putting on all of our winter accessories, we were back out in the clear, crisp Sunday night. We were both drunk, frisky, and happy. We didn’t have any particular destination in mind, we had left the itinerary after dinner open so we were free to do whatever we pleased. It was obvious what we both had on our minds and Justin grabbed my hand, pulled me close and started kissing me passionately.

I am one of those people who has an aversion to public displays of affection. Justin is the complete opposite. But due to my inebriated state and our celebratory moods, I let my inhibitions slip and we stood there in the middle of a pretty deserted sidewalk, stroking each other’s tongues.

I wasn’t sure what time it was, I wasn’t sure what street we were on, I wasn't sure of anything except for the grip Justin had on my hips, on my lips, and on my heart.

I was lost in the man I love. We were oblivious to the world. My gloved hands were holding his face, yearning for him to somehow get closer to me as we locked lips and didn’t let go. His strong arms were wrapped around me, holding me close. I felt safe with him, as I always did.

That’s when I heard it. The sound that will haunt me for the rest of my life.