2003-08-07 - 3:07 p.m.

longing

when he left the room, she quickly pulled her bed-clothes back over her white, soft, dimpled skin. she always did this, preferrably while the lights were still off. she tucked herself back under the rumpled sheets. her sleepy dog hopped back up onto the bed, and after a few satisfied snorts, curled up beside her.

he returned to the room also dressed. considerately and silently he placed a fresh glass of water on the dresser by her side of the bed, and made his way over to his side, where he tucked himself in and turned off the light.

after a chaste, peck of a kiss goodnight, which left her remembering how lustily his tongue had explored her lips only moments ago, he turned away from her, and settled into his pillow.

she lay in the blue-black darkness, her mind to busy to be put to rest yet. dreams of their coupling drifted through her thoughts like whispy clouds. his long, slender body, his dark hair, his handfuls of her shameful flesh. she looked over to the curve of his shoulder over the blanket, and loved every pore of it's velvety flesh. her heart seemed full to bursting. the room smelled of sex and sweat and the tendrils of smoke that twisted and snaked away from the recently-extinguished candle. she reached out for him.

"i love you," she whispered. he turned to her slowly, his deep eyes sleepy.

"what ..?" he pulled the small wad of cotton he'd stuffed into his ears to drown out the noises of their life together, the noises that made him restless when he sought out rest.

"i love you," she repeated, blood and hope and lust filling he heart, spilling over into her chest, pumping through her veins.

"i know."

he turned away from her, tucked himself back into a comfortable position beside her. it was not the answer she wanted to hear. she lay staring at the dark curls of the hair at the nape of his neck, and how they twisted and danced in the wind of their bedside fan. the feeling in her heart siezed, pushed, pulled, dropped and felt as though it were squeezing her stomach. just say it once. just once. say it first. say it without me asking for it ... a mantra of self-loathing circled in her head like a whirlwind of pain.

she slouched down under the covers, and pulled them up to her face, tight. her cheeks grew hot with her own breath and longing. stifled by the humid, wet air she made, she quietly began to cry herslef to sleep, being careful not to shake, not to move, not to let him know that she was once again doing the one thing that she'd always done, and that he had hated so, so much.

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2 comments

go back - move ahead