Sleeping Habits
Part 2/3
Stacy
He met Stacy around the time of his first big time law-suit; she looked as bored as he did during the hearings and rejected his first proposition to dinner. She showed up at his door two days after the settlement and said something about a lawyer-client thing, and he smiled.
Sex with her was amazing, especially after one of their constant shouting matches. She'd slammed the door in his face, fuming with a cigarette in hand, and he would just turn towards his piano with a cup of whatever was at hand. He never went after her because he knew perfectly well that she would be back soon enough with an 'I'm sorry' half-smile and drag him to bed for earth shattering make-up sex.
When they were done, still trying to catch their breaths, she would give him a pleased smile and a quick kiss before turning over and laying down on her back, face turned sideways, usually towards the wall. She would have one leg wrapped around the sheets, her other leg bended just slightly at the knee, with her feet point just so that he could clearly see the arch from years of ballet.
One hand would be over her stomach and the other would twirl a strand of hair until she fell asleep. It always seemed to him as if she was trying to win some of her independence back as she slept, because she never wanted to get more than necessary of him during those hours.
The first few times they slept together she was fine with his arms around her, pulling her as close as possible to himself. As time went on he noticed that she would pull away from him slightly, little by little until all he had was an arm draped around her stomach and fingers wrapped around her always cold fingers. Until he decided to let them go and for the warmth the underside of his pillow offered.
With her, he learned how to sleep on his stomach. It sometimes felt like this new habit was his way of losing to her. That everything between them was just a game they didn't want to lose.
Sometimes, he thought that if the sex wasn't so amazing, he would go after one of the nurses that gave him those lustful eyes, so he could remember what it was like to have someone completely pressed against him. He didn't remember if it felt as good as those sickly sweet romance movies pretended it was.
She wasn't the cuddling type, even though they use to cuddle in the beginning of their relationship, and he had always said he wasn't either (maybe that's where the lies started). But sometimes he wished she would move closer to him.
He spent all the years they were together saying that was how he liked woman, always close but at arm's length. That was the only way he ever had her.
They were both just too proud to admit they needed something else.