Cupid and Psyche: the Invention of the Kiss

…she came upon a royal palace, too wonderfully built to be the work of anyone but a god…Towards midnight she heard a gentle whispering near her, and began to feel lonely and scared. Anything might happen in a vast uninhabited place like this, and she had fears for her chastity. But no, it was the whisper of her unknown husband.
Now he was climbing into bed with her and making her his wife.
He left her hastily just before daybreak, and almost at once she heard the voices of her maids reassuring her that though she had lost her virginity, her chastity was safe. So she went to sleep again.
—Apuleius
Before it could begin, our affair seemed to be over.
I had arranged the perfect setting for our meeting —
darkness. I remember bending to kiss a hand
lost in my soft grip: I clutched my own palm tightly,
hugged my own torso. "Can't I touch you at all —
anywhere?' I quavered. "Only if I can see you!'
Her voice was marble veined with ice.
The Palace
lapsed into air while I took thought then conjured it
with a finger-flick. I lit the lamp by the bed.
"Ah,' she said slowly, "I knew you would be like that!'
and walked towards me holding my image in her eyes—
blue flames imprinted with this face — unrobing herself
so that lamplight shone in gold arcs over her body.
My fingers stroked that gold into her flesh,
the line of our gaze never broken,
our lips about to meet.