"Brigitte Snaps"

48. Despair in the Bed

Despair shares their bed with them that night as they lie side-by-side, face-to-face, without the barrier of clothing. It's warm in the room, here, and the moment is lazy, slowly moving forward without a worry in the world as if to hide the despair that's connecting them now.

They are studying each other under the dim, orange light of the room, they are observing the details of one another and taking measurements. Brigitte is measuring the space between his temple and his jaw with her fingers, and he's doing the same for the strands of her hair. Her toes are measuring responsiveness of his ankles, and his other hand, on her hip, is tapping a rhythm.

Brigitte feels that, no matter what, after all is said and done, it all comes down to the comfort she feels with him. To hell with the implications, as there is no comparison to what she feels here. There she is, naked, where she has been many times before and with him, still trying to find home in his touch.

Sam feels that, no matter what he does, when it comes right down to it, it's the balance of his twenty-two against her fifteen. That was why he always let her drive, because he could take what he wanted, when he wanted it, if he wanted it, in a variety of ways... only it would break her, and what has anyone else ever done but to break her? So he lies next to her, strokes her hair, and tries to find home.