The Morning After
She thought it was one of the most vivid dreams she had ever had. However, unlike most dreams it hadn't faded away into the mists as she had slowly awakened. Opening her eyes, she realized that it hadn't been a dream. That there in her bed was a man. While that wasn't unheard of, the identity of this man was what made it so noteworthy. There had been so many misconnections, miscommunication, for so long, but this morning he was here. She was tempted to shake him, wake him, hoping he shared in her pleasure. Instead, for a few moments she lay quietly, hardly daring to breathe for fear of waking him. Then she slowly, ever so carefully, propped herself on one elbow and quietly took the scene in. Watched as the light of day seeping around the curtains in her bedroom revealed his features. Features seemed to her this morning somehow almost beautiful.
Finally, the needs of her morning routine moved her to ease out of the bed, inching out ever so carefully, so as not to disturb him. Once off the bed she was able to stand erect and stretch her cramped muscles. She couldn't help but smile as she took a final glance at the sleeping form before her. While not overly modest, it came to her that for some bizarre reason it wouldn't do for him to awaken and find her naked. So, she stole barefoot across the floor to find and don her robe. Continuing to steal across the floor, she could only marvel at the trail of their clothing lying intermingled across the floor. The thought of how each piece came to be there contributing to the smile on her face. Each piece a part of the story of what had happened in this room the preceding evening. Shaking herself free of her reverie she went into the loo and as quietly as she could preformed her morning ritual. Occasionally she would glance back into the bedroom, only to see that Morse, while beginning to stir was not quite awake.
Again, stealing across the floor, she went into her kitchen, looking for a drink of water to take away the taste of the night. Something to tide her over until she could brew something. She couldn't decide whether tea or coffee would be better, which he would prefer. More importantly which she had either or both. Before she could make her choice, she heard a slight noise behind her. Turning towards it she saw Morse standing in the doorway. A totally wrecked Morse that is. He had managed to get dressed, or more accurately was in the process of getting dressed. His trousers were on, as was his shirt. His shirttail was hanging out, and he was making a bad job of attempting to button it. He was barefoot and there had been no thought of combing his hair. He was beautiful, and she loved him.
He tried to stifle a yawn as she walked over to him. Before he could say anything, she reached up on her tiptoes, and gave him a kiss on his lips. It took everything she had not to wrap her arms around him and pull him to her. Instead she could only look him directly in the eyes and say, "Good morning, Morse." When he recovered he could only stammer out a "good morning, Miss Thursday." She almost had to laugh at that, that after the night they had just shared he could be so formal.
Before he even opened his eyes, he recognized that something was different. The mattress was softer than what he was used to, and the room smelled different. Without moving he opened his eyes and tried to take stock of his surroundings. This was Miss Thursdays, Joan's, bedroom and he was in her bed. The sound that had awakened him must have been her leaving the room. Since it was her flat she obviously wasn't leaving for long. He supposed that he may as well get up.
Sitting up in the bed he could see that the clothes they had on the previous evening were in a trail across the room. In the increasing light he was able to pick his out and gain some idea of what order to gather them up. It wouldn't do to have her see him naked this morning. Springing out of bed he put his trousers and shirt on before going to look for her. He was attempting to button his shirt when he caught sight of her. There in the kitchen, apparently looking for something, dressed in a bath robe, hair combed but still a mess, the sight of her took his breath away. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
She must have heard him, as she turned her head to look at him. The way her face lit up when she saw him made his heart do something funny, or maybe he just thought it did. Straightening up she came over to him, neither her eyes nor her smile wavering from him. She must have stood on tiptoe because of the height difference, to kiss him on the lips. Still looking him in the eye with that smile on her face she simply said "Good Morning. Morse". His heart was definitely trying to jump out of his body at this point. He could only stammer "Good morning Miss Thursday". Even as he said it he knew how ridiculous it sounded. She was hardly "Miss Thursday" this morning, now was she?
"Come on into the kitchen let's have some breakfast." Morse had finally managed to button his shirt but evidently was, at least for the moment, going to leave it untucked. He also gave no indication that he was going to move, instead looking around as if he had never been in this flat in his life. Joan wasn't going to have that, wasn't going to give up everything they had gained during the weekend. So as always it was back to how much could she coax out of him. "Which do you prefer coffee or tea?" That brought him into the kitchen at last. He looked back at her and with a slight hint of a smile said "tea, I don't care for a coffee". That answer although it really didn't matter so much surprised her given yesterday at the coffee shop. Recognizing this he added "I think I drank more coffee yesterday than in my entire life, "For some reason she found that to be outrageously funny. Seeing her reaction brought a little grin to his face. The ice was broken and now they could move forward.
She reminded him of where the loo was, and he said he was good for a while. So, seeing her opportunity she told him "why don't you put the kettle on while I get dressed" As she passed by him on the way out of the kitchen he motioned for her to stop, and without a word, reached out to touch her hand. A touch that was so gentle he must have thought she would break. "Back in a minute, ok?"
When she came back he was standing beside the stove looking out the window, apparently mesmerized. So much so that she was able to steal up behind him and wrapping her arms around him burrow her forehead into his back. He didn't try to turn around for a moment, but when he finally did it was to hold her back far enough that he could look her in the eyes. With that look that had always done it for her he simply told her "thank you". She didn't know whether to cry or laugh at the words and the meaning of them. Afraid to look into his eyes, she simply nodded her head, looking down at the floor.
Finally, she looked up and asked him "will you help me with breakfast?" "Well, you know, I really should be" Refusing to allow him to finish his excuse she gave him instructions to keep him busy. "There's eggs in the refrigerator and the pan is over there. Which do you prefer scrambled or fried? "Once more he showed that he had the capacity to surprise her. "If its ok with you….Mis…Joan, I think scrambled sounds good." She was surprised, yet pleased, for this was the first time he had called her by her name. Although given the circumstances if he hadn't today it was likely he never would have. Still she wouldn't make an issue of it, just turn her head and smile to herself. "Great! If you will do that, I'll get some cheese out and make some toast while we're waiting for the brew".
The next few minutes were spent with each seemingly concentrating on the tasks at hand. Each one pretending not to notice the others occasional sideways glances. He concentrated on his eggs while she set the table for two and buttered the toast. Maybe it was a case of beginner's luck, but it pretty much all came together at the same time. Breakfast was quiet, an occasional short question or answer. The conversation of two people who are just happy in each company. Happy enough to not want words to spoil it with too many words.
After they had finished and complimented each other on the meal, Morse had still another surprise for her. He wasn't chomping at the bit to leave, in fact he seemed to find reasons to stay. He offered to help her clean up the few dishes they had used. He would wash if she would dry. Anyone watching the two wouldn't have had to be a detective to solve the mystery of this performance. Neither one wanted the magic to end. The clock may as well have been invisible as they both studiously avoided it.
The day went on, both absorbed in the pleasure of each other's company. But like all good things it had to come to an end. Morse was on call for the following day and had to get everything ready in case he was needed at work. At the same time Joan had promised to meet her Mom for dinner. As Morse was preparing to open the door to leave he told Joan "Goodnight" and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. She huffed and put her hand out to preventing him from opening the door. Looking him in the eyes with that mischievous little smile she reserved for him, she told him. "I hardly think this is appropriate". For the life of him he couldn't understand what he had done that was inappropriate. So, she had to explain it to him. She reached up, pulled his face down to hers and proceeded to kiss him goodbye. This it must be said was not your everyday kiss. This was the kiss of a woman giving a man something to remember her by. When she finally released him, Morse was totally gobsmacked, he could only mumble "Goodbye" as he almost fell out the door. Joan watched him walk away with a satisfied look in eyes.
Both of them realized that they might have said "Goodbye" but it wouldn't be for long.