"A Glorious Morning".
It was her turn to wiggle uncomfortably in her
seat.
Their last evening together approached and,
although she’d rather have spent it lying in front of the fire with him, he’d
insisted they go out to eat. She’d laughed a filthy laugh when he’d suggested they “eat out”
and he’d laughed when she’d laughed.
She drew the zip of her boots up slowly as he
watched from the kitchen, his chin resting on his hands and his elbows on the
counter.
“Are you nearly ready or what?” He moaned, though
the moan was playful.
“What.”
“I said, are you…”
“I know what you said, I was trying to be funny.”
“Oh, right. Pack that shit in, it doesn’t suit
you.”
She stood and walked toward him, the slow
clip-clop that the heels of her calf length boots made on the aging floorboards
echoing around the tall room. He smiled at her, his eyes never leaving hers as
he waited patiently for the kiss that he knew would come.
“Tasty.” He said as she used a thumb to remove her
lipstick from his lips.
“The kiss or me?”
“Both.”
It was twilight as they left the apartment, but
the heat of the day prevailed as they made their way up the street and toward
the side of town she was yet to experience.
Tables were sitting outside the restaurant on the uneven
cobbles that separated the large, plate glass windows, behind which diners
dined, from the narrow street along which wanderers wandered.
“Chez Yvon,” the sign above the door read.
They drank wine as they ate. She tried escargot
for the first time and discovered they tasted just like garlic butter. The
steaks they ate were bloody and the cakes they ate sickeningly sweet.
“I don’t want to go home.” She said as he drained his glass of gin and tonic.
“I’ll get us another drink, then.”
“I didn’t mean that, I meant…”
“I know what you meant.” He leaned across and
kissed her.
They walked back to the apartment slowly, both
secretly hoping that the walk would last forever.
It didn’t.
It didn’t.
She sat on the bed and watched him light the fire.
It wasn’t cold enough that the flames be necessary, but she loved watching the
flames so she’d insisted.
“It’s my last night,” She’d pursed her lips as she
spoke, “I deserve to be spoilt.”
They made love slowly in front of the flickering
flames. He peppered her face with gentle, feather light kisses as she came and
then, once his own orgasm had followed and subsided, they rolled, still
intimately connected, onto their sides where eventually she felt him grow again
and again they made love.
At some point they slept. At some point they climbed into the bed and slept some more. At one point she awoke and looked at his slumbering face and she felt tears for the inevitable separation that loomed. At another point he awoke and did likewise. They slept, their legs intertwined and her face on his chest, as the fire died and as the sun rolled lazily into the sky.
He woke first and took her hand, placing it on the
erection that he’d woken with. Still asleep she had masturbated him, only
waking when she felt his hot seed on her stomach. She realised what had
happened, smiled and murmured “Good morning, baby.”
“It’s glorious, isn’t it? He kissed her forehead
and slipped from beneath the bedclothes. “Brew up, it’s your turn.” He called
over his shoulder, scratching his arse and heading for the bathroom.
“I’ll just sort myself out then, shall I?” She
called after him.
“Just get the motor running, baby,” He shouted
over the noise of the shower as he turned it on. Popping his head back around
the door he grinned and said with a wink, “And do it whilst you make me a
coffee.”
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