He would watch sometimes from the backyard, sitting on the picnic bench, cigarette in hand. She would watch the thin wisps of smoke out of the corners of her eyes from two stories up.
And sometimes when he watched, he was nothing more than shadow separating shadow in the hallway outside the bedroom door.
She would take her time, moving around, preparing herself.
She had always prolonged dressing for him, finding ways to slow herself down.
But now he was home so seldom. It tortured her how much slower she had to become, learning to make it better for him.
Her body constantly ached, waiting for the night. Waiting for more than his eyes. She wanted his hands on her.
And now the night was here.
And he was in the hallway.
She had her coloured underwear on when she turned from brushing her hair in the mirror. She turned to face the open door and she said his name, hushed on the waves of darkness.
And he came to stand before her in his blue jeans; his fingers outstretched and taut on loose arms by his side.
And because he had come to her, she laid herself upon the bed.
He found himself beside her, his hands finally on her breasts and she could barley sigh.
"Jane," he spoke, as he buried his face into her hair; softer than the pillow.
She touched his face with shyness and brought their lips together.
His lips found her breasts and she could not contain any sounds any longer. His hands slid down her body, slipping into her underwear, sliding over her, a finger into her warmth.
She rocked against his hand.
He pulled her hand close to him and then lower.
He had taken off his pants and she did not know when.
He showed her how and she enjoyed the sleekness of him as she moved her hand up and down.
He pushed her legs further apart, gentle. And she spread them further for him, herself.
He was above her, looking down at her and she let her gaze hold his.
The front door opened.
"Kids, I am home," the voice filtered up.
And the same blue eyes stayed locked together.
"Coming," he yelled.
He slid himself deep inside of her and then back out, reaching for his jeans.
And sometimes when he watched, he was nothing more than shadow separating shadow in the hallway outside the bedroom door.
She would take her time, moving around, preparing herself.
She had always prolonged dressing for him, finding ways to slow herself down.
But now he was home so seldom. It tortured her how much slower she had to become, learning to make it better for him.
Her body constantly ached, waiting for the night. Waiting for more than his eyes. She wanted his hands on her.
And now the night was here.
And he was in the hallway.
She had her coloured underwear on when she turned from brushing her hair in the mirror. She turned to face the open door and she said his name, hushed on the waves of darkness.
And he came to stand before her in his blue jeans; his fingers outstretched and taut on loose arms by his side.
And because he had come to her, she laid herself upon the bed.
He found himself beside her, his hands finally on her breasts and she could barley sigh.
"Jane," he spoke, as he buried his face into her hair; softer than the pillow.
She touched his face with shyness and brought their lips together.
His lips found her breasts and she could not contain any sounds any longer. His hands slid down her body, slipping into her underwear, sliding over her, a finger into her warmth.
She rocked against his hand.
He pulled her hand close to him and then lower.
He had taken off his pants and she did not know when.
He showed her how and she enjoyed the sleekness of him as she moved her hand up and down.
He pushed her legs further apart, gentle. And she spread them further for him, herself.
He was above her, looking down at her and she let her gaze hold his.
The front door opened.
"Kids, I am home," the voice filtered up.
And the same blue eyes stayed locked together.
"Coming," he yelled.
He slid himself deep inside of her and then back out, reaching for his jeans.
Comments
David (www.treppenwitz.com)
"He slid himself deep inside of her and then back out, reaching for his jeans."
Oh.....
Well I guess I should have an abortion then?