Orange

"You still haven't explained the color orange to me yet..."

She sat there with a smirk on her face. Her beautiful green eyes looking aimlessly at my shoulder.

"Are you sure you are ready to learn orange? You were not too happy with red," I countered.

"That is because you gave me a second-degree burn on my hand!" she exclaimed!

"Hardly. It wasn't even a first-degree burn. Anyway, ok, time for orange, hold out your hands."

She held out her lithe, delicate hands, almost warily at this point. I gently placed an orange in her hands.

"So tell me," I asked with my professor mock-speech, "what are you holding, my dear?"

She felt the fruit in her hands, seeing it with her fingertips, "It is an orange. Ha! Ha! That doesn't help at all. You promised to explain all of the colors to me. I want to know what orange looks like, the color, not the fruit."

"Well, what color do you think an orange is? Lavender?"

"So for me, I am just to assume the color orange looks like a dimpled sphere?"

"No, here. Let me take it from you now."

I began to peel the orange in front of her. The oil and the juice from the orange, filling the air.

"That is what the color orange smells like," I said.

I broke off a wedge, burst some of the cells so it was dripping sweet, and placed it to her lips.

"That is what the color orange tastes like," I said as I watch her suck on the wedge of orange and then begin to eat it.

I caressed her cheek with the warmth of my hand.

"This is what orange feels like. Where red was hot, orange sits next to red and is warm instead. Inviting."

"So, besides an orange, what other things are painted orange?" She asked in a purr, sinking her cheek into my touch intimately.

"Even though you are a redhead, your hair is more like spun copper. It is closer to orange than it is to red."

"Really? After you scorched my hand the other day, I thought of my red hair as fiery. My mother always refers to me as being more fiery than her," she countered.

"No, your hair is orange. Warm, not hot. Fire can be red, orange, or yellow. It tends to be a blend of those."

"But, fire burns. Burns is Red, not orange. You said it yourself, orange is warm."

"Yes, the temperatures are emotionally relative. Technically, blue flame is hotter than red."

"But, you said blue is cold!"

"Blue can describe cold. Obviously, it can describe very hot stars as well."

"Confusing..."

"Yes, but do you even think you have a better idea what colors are? I have done my best to find creative ways to paint them for you without sight."

"Yes, I do. I appreciate it all. I was just teasing you."

Then she found my face with her hands, brought hers to mine and kissed my lips.

"And what color was that?" she asked.

"It was soft, sweet, gentle and tasted surprisingly like an orange. A light orange," I teased. She smacked me on the head, then kissed me harder, with more passion.

"And this one?" she asked, a bit more breathlessly.

"That one, as red as can be. I felt all of your heat and passion, so definitely red."

"Good, that is what I was hoping for. Maybe I am starting to see these colors after all."

She kissed me again, even deeper this time. We both bled to red as we succumbed to the dance of our lips, and tongues, and love.