My Complaints

I experienced a sudden sharpness in my chest, which obviously and immediately concerned me. Yet, I craved for it to happen again. I clutched myself, trying not to fall forward, whilst idiotically wishing for more.

Heat built up from behind my ears, then swarmed to the centre of my face. Yes, I was instantly light-headed and dizzy. I had to drop my jaw in an effort to remind myself to breathe. Or rather, how to breathe. Utterly ridiculous.

I felt like I lost control and I enjoyed it.

My whole body vibrated and my soul reacted, all because he stepped closer and took my hand in his for the millionth time since the first time, he did.  

I pulled him in closer, smiling in to his kisses.

 

Safe with you

Oblivious to his immediate safety, she pulls him back and grabs his hand before he crosses the street.

  “I like it when you do that,” he says, once safely escorted to the other side.

  “Saving you from getting run over?” she asks.

  “When you take my hand,” he smiles at her. “And yes, thank you.”

  She blushes. “Just look both ways next time, idiot,” she says, giving his hand a tender squeeze.

the only occupants

I let him guide me through the crowded room, with his hand perfectly placed on my lower back. In this moment, he’s rightly choosing to be a gentleman, but I can feel he’s being careful not to allow his hand to slip, bringing us both memories of last night when his fingertips tenderly traced every inch of my bare skin.

He can seduce me with every version of him.

I do not rush his attentiveness, but I equally wish this room were quieter.

I wish we were the only occupants.

Poised, perfect

His grip was lighter this time. Almost careless.

He usually holds tighter, like he’s afraid to let go, to lose me.

I’ve no doubt he could snap me in half if he wanted. If he wanted. But he hasn’t. Perhaps because of the guilt he’d have, he hasn’t.

With any strength I have to be ready, poised, perfect.

I can’t ever fade, because he’d just toss me aside for another. He needs me, but he’d replace me in a click.

I need to be needed by him.

Boy Soldier

Chapter One

The Piercing – Part 9

She looks at him, shrugs, and says, ‘Things can’t stay the same forever though, can they?’ She waits, hoping for the answer she knows isn’t going to be given.  Instead, she watches him shift his weight again in the same spot in the booth. She knows this is a sign for her to go. Again. Like she is the last to arrive, she is always the first to leave. And she knows he wants it that way but has never said aloud why. She tries a genuine smile and says, ‘I’ll pay for these.’ Before he can politely object, she scoots out of the booth and heads for the till. 

Paul watches her weave in and out of the occupied round tables in the café, making her way towards the counter. She’s less than four metres away, but he misses her already. He aches for her even when she’s sat across from him. He breathes in her every huff, every sigh, every disappointment. He’ll take them all, just to have her with him now. To be in the same room with her.

He watches her smile and nod gratefully to the server behind the counter, thanking them for the coffees and service, comfortably conversing in other small talk and pleasantries, as she taps her card on the machine. She thanks them again, tucking her card in her pocket, he’s never known her to carry a purse or handbag, and she weaves back towards him.

“Thank you for the coffees, Emily,” he says clearly, but with a slight embarrassment as it was his idea to meet.

“That’s OK,” she says still standing, putting on her jacket, trying not to make eye contact again. “It was probably my turn. If we ever started counted that kinda of thing.”

“I don’t think we have,” he laughs. “I never have.”

She looks at him, processing this moment, their past, and future. And with another sigh, she says, “Well, it was good to see you, Paul. It looks like you’re doing OK, since,” she holds her breath, reminded by what has come between them, before quickly recovering to continue, “Since the last time we met, that is.”

“Right, yes. Thanks.” He nods. “You always look great, Emily. And I’m so happy everything is going well for you,” he says, almost formally.

She forces a smile and says, “Right, yes, everything’s going well.” She pulls at the hem of her jacket, straightening herself up, and looks softly in to his eyes. And waits. Again.

That part

His hands are on that part of my waist I can’t quite hold or tuck in anymore. I know it’s there, and now he does, too.
I work on keeping in shape, but I don’t deny myself that glass or dish of something in the meantime. Nor do I try to reverse time and defy my real age. I’m learning to embrace the whole of me, including the bits that hang over a little now.
So, I don’t move, squirm, or adjust the placement of his hands, and neither does he.
There’s a glint in his eye. And his smile… it’s getting bigger.
I’m fairly sure we’ll be naked soon.

Fuughhhhh…

The more he allowed me to stare into his eyes as he stared back into mine, I felt my knees go, and I was already sitting down.
    We were still in silence for a time – which was both too long and not long enough. I could have sat deaf and mute all day if it wasn’t for the ache… The ache to hear and feel the vibration of his dark, creamy voice once more.
     Every time I inhaled to catch my breath in the desperate hope to ease my fucking loud pounding heart, I inhaled him too. Breathing him in like I was wearing an oxygen mask going down in a plane. He was my air and I was happily hyperventilating.
     And his smell… fresh and sweet. If I could lick him to find out exactly what flavours I would, but I don’t think we’re quite there yet… It’s too early for too weird.
     All this, and he hasn’t even touched me. Yet…
     Bloody hell, he is sexy as fuughhhhh…

Piercing – part 8

Scraping sounds of chairs being shuffled, pulled out and tucked back in, food orders and table numbers being called, the exchange of niceties, and door chimes fill their muted booth. 

Over the next few minutes, he watches her jaw unclench, her shoulders drop, her head shake and sink into her chest, and hears her sigh aloud one last time. He knows. He’s just witnessed her give up.

He goes to speak – to say something – anything, but she gets in first. ‘I think I prefer the old booths,’ she says. ‘These new seat covers don’t feel…,’ she considers, carefully. ‘Comfortable. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the old ones were never comfortable either. Ah, it’s too late now.’ 

Paul understood every word of what Emily wasn’t saying. He’s always heard her.

She begins to pick up her jacket and says, ‘I think I’ll – ‘

Before she has a chance to finish, Paul interrupts, ‘Do you remember when the counter was over the other side of the café?’

She pulls her jacket onto her lap, and says, ‘I remember.’

He continues, ‘I think they moved the counter to make more space for tables.’

‘Yep,’ she huffs.

He looks at her and says, ‘I liked how it all was before too.’