BODY PAINTING IN BELFAST
We spentfour days in Belfast as Finn took an entire week off from the pub. We visited everything my sightseeing history buff ass wanted to see. Explored the museum, dock, and pump house of the Titanic, and walked the grounds and interior of Belfast Castle. We saw shows, ate at all the pubs, and shopped at all the shops along Victoria Square and perused through St. George’s Market. He even took me to an old, abandoned water park and zoo. That itself was an experience. Finn had friends in Belfast, and we stayed with them for the week we would be there. Very lively bunch, but yet completely intimidating Irish men. We drove an hour in his friend, Ritchie’s Audi. I don’t know much about his friends. As a matter of fact, their relationship with him was a mystery. It’s like they followed his every word, every question, every demand without hesitance. I never asked him about my observations but filed it away in the back of my mind as an invading thought in my head.
We both dressed comfortably and warm in all black. Him clad in his black leather jacket and jeans, while I opted for my own leather jacket, faded black cutout jeans and scarf hanging loosely around my neck. It rained the entire drive and as soon as our feet step onto the wet rain-soaked rocks of Giant’s Causeway, the rain stops in mid-shower. As I look over down the parking lot and over the expansive coast of large stones, the sea comes into full view.
It’s ethereal.
It’s magical in its own right.
The seascape of crashing waves against the rocks and cliffs caught our gaze immediately. The smell of ocean spray invades my every sense as it crashes against the rocks in front of us. The stones below our feet are slippery from the downfall of previous rain and my flat soled sneakers became slick against the wet surface. As I begin to slip and lose my footing, Finn’s strong hand grips my own and pulls me up safely from falling against the stone. A sign pointing us in the direction of a red or blue route stood directly in front of us. He looked at me sideways and I give a knowing smirk. I know his gaze is on me. This man’s gaze was enough to not only make me nervous but excite me all the same.
“Red or blue, Goddess?” Finn asks.
“Red.”
He grips my hand firmly once more and leads me down the shepherd’s steps in front of us. We walked for hours along the red route, taking in the sights of the organ pipe rock formation on the hillside. I stop mid-step, unable to stop my amused laughter.
“What?” he asks.
“It’s actually a camel,” I can hardly breathe.
He looks over in the direction that I pointed to and see as perfectly shaped rock formation in the shape of a camel across the green mossy countryside. Jagged rocks and boulders in odd shapes aligned the coastline.
“Humphrey the Camel,” he chuckles.
We walked the rest of the red route and finished off the tour by walking the rent of the blue route. My aching feet and chafing thighs screamed. My chub rub rejoiced when we finally stopped at the bluffs overlooking the sea. I am out of breath tremendously from the long hike. I place my hands on my hips and try to steady my breaths quietly. Never really letting my size factor into my everyday activities until now. I look over to see a calm and stoic face on Finn that I have never seen before.
“I have been in Ireland all my life, but this is beautiful,” he says.
He waves his hand across the crashing sea against the rocks in front of us. I walk up to him and stand closely beside him.
“I have always wanted to see it in person ever since I was a little girl,” I tell him.
He wraps his muscled forearm around my waist, pulling me closer to him.
“What drew you to it so young?”
“The story behind it. Do you know it?” I ask.
He shook his head “no” and I smile over the crashing rocks. I place my hand across my eyes, shielding them from a random glare from the sun peeking through the previously rain-soaked clouds.
“According to local legend: the causeway was built by an Irish giant so he could fight a Scottish giant. The Scottish giant was bigger, so the Irish giant disguised himself as a baby to avoid the inevitable confrontation. When the Scot saw the size of the baby, he knew that the father must be bigger than the baby was, so he fled back to Scotland and destroyed the causeway by tearing up chunks of the coastline and throwing them into the sea as he fled,” I say, my voice trailing off an amused huff.
“That’s one way to do it,” Finn replied amused.
“My mother and father came here on their honeymoon. My father loved to tell me that story. I think it made him feel closer to my mother. In all aspects I did too,” I continued softly.
“I’m sorry.”
“She died when I was a baby, it’s just been me and my Da, Nonna and Nonno.”
“Your Da sounds great,” he says.
“He is. I miss him so much, but he wants me to do this. I studied so hard to graduate school and learn so much, but I never truly experienced anything.”
“You seem very experienced, Goddess.”
“You definitely don’t complain, but I am far from a Goddess. I sure as shit don’t look like one.”
“I don’t ever what to hear that talk again, Amelia,” he says, a serious tone to his voice.
He presses his finger under my chin and forces me to look him in his blue-stoned gaze. His jaw clenched, but quickly showed dimples as he smirked.
“Jackass,” I say.
“I call you a Goddess because your mind is like Athena. Your body is like Aphrodite. Your soul like the Irish Aine. Your sex like Medusa. You are my fucking Goddess,” he professed.
He captures my lips with his in a fierce kiss. Our tongues entwined in a frenzy for each other. As our kiss breaks, his teeth graze past my lower lip and catches it in a soft bite. His trademark smirk appears back on his rugged face as his sand brown hair falls into his face. He takes his phone from his leather jacket pocket and wraps me in his arms tightly, positioning us in perfect sight with his phone as he takes a photo. I lean my head back against his shoulder as a sense of calm comes over me being in this man’s arms.