Silent
invite
It is interesting where an open door can lead you to. A trap, a room full of dead resistance fighters; or to a nice chat with John, before he goes to bed.
When I left the door to my room open on purpose one evening, it had let to a night of hastily shed clothes, awkward moments, and then moans of pleasure.
The first time Cameron had passed my door on her routine parole tour through the house, she had only turned her head in my direction briefly without stopping. The second time she didn't even look at me, probably still processing what to make of it. But when she came by for the third time, finding that my door was still open, my little Tin Miss finally took the invite.
As soon as she had crossed the threshold I told her to close the door behind her and to lock it.
Excitement made my heart pound wildly when Cameron walked towards the bed. My hand closed around her wrist, tugging her down to me and greeting her with a kiss.
There was no need to talk about what was going to happen; we had been grazing the border for long enough, I'd had the door – not only the literal one - closed for long enough.
But tonight I had left it open, for her and a night of exploring and allowing myself to fall asleep in the arms of a terminator had followed.
It hadn't been perfect, though that wasn't my expectation. The sexual tension and my desire had been tested by a clueless but nonetheless sexy cybernetic organism. I had to teach her and lead the way, which was fine by me, I like to be in control and when she was ready to run the show, so was I to let her.
The open door had marked a beginning, a silent symbol. From there whenever Cameron made her rounds, she came into my room when she passed it for the first time and always stayed until the sun came up again.
The End