Sketchbook
"I see her almost everyday, you know. She's so beautiful, but it doesn't even cross her mind. Every time I close my eyes, I see her, smiling and happy, content in my arms. She keeps me hypnotized, entranced in her spell. I can't seem to fall asleep, so I open my trunk and retrieve my worn sketchbook, fiddling with the quill and the ink. I begin to sketch her as she appears in my daydreams, careless and free, with her heart belonging, of course to me, her soul free of earthly torment and sorrow."
"As I draw each curve and plain, I imagine what it's like to be loved by her, and hold her in my arms. I wonder what she would feel like if I touched her, wonder what she'd taste like if I kissed her, and wonder whether any of that is even possible. What would a gorgeous woman like Cho want with me?"
I closed my schoolgirl journal, an extension of the deepest thoughts from my past into that magical realm of parchment and ink. It was many more years before I gathered the courage to come out, and quite a while more before I would admit to fancying Cho. Of course, this is all the past, and the present is very different from then.
I set the journal onto the nightstand to my right, and lie on my left side. Cho was there, breathing lightly. She was awake, I knew. She always tries to fool me, so that she can surprise me in the middle of the night and lay her arm over my shoulder and hold me. It never works; her smile gives her dead away. She smiles often now, I make sure of that.
Her silly grin grows wider as I slowly shift to face her. She doesn't say a word as I draw her into a deep kiss. She moves to touch me, but even as I smile, I push her away. For a moment, she is puzzled. Or is until I make it quite clear it is my turn to touch her.
I run my hands down her stomach and back, giving her goose bumps, but relieving stress, none the less. Slowly, surely, deliberately, I begin to move further down, until she is calling my name.
I pull away, sitting up and giving her a chance to breathe. But an instant later, she is at my lips. She kisses forcefully, almost like a man, so hard I'm knocked from my seated position to one beneath her. But she has sincerity in her kiss, one that's distinctly female. My love hasn't broken the kiss, and soon I am gasping for air. She pulls her lips away from mine, and rests them upon my shoulder, beginning to kiss me there as well.
Nothing else exists right now, just the feeling of her head on my shoulder, and her moving swiftly southward.
I hear the rain pounding against the roof... *our* roof. But to me, it is only an illusion. The only sounds I here are the ones Cho whispers, muffled into my shoulder, the sounds of those three small words I longed to hear for so long: "I love you." I touched my lips to the nape of her neck as her magic took it's desired effect upon my body.
As we lie awake together, her head on my chest, my thoughts drift back to the sketchbook and the journal. I've finally found the answers to my teenaged questions. I know what she feels like, tastes like, smells like, kisses like. She's a remarkable woman, the love of my life, and she's all mine. I don't have to imagine anymore.