Rolling onto her back, she looks at me, smiling brightly as she laughs.
"What's funny?" I ask, my voice strangled, and a million awful things she could be laughing at run through my fuzzy, sex-hazed brain.
She shakes her head, stretching out her long limbs. "Wow," she breathes.
And just like that, my ego reinflates. "Yeah?"
Her head lolls to one side, but she keeps her eyes on me. "Mmmm. I think I need a few minutes."
I can actually see my erection twitch, the need for release overwhelming, but all I do is nod. I can wait. Hell, it might actually do me some good at this point. I drop to the bed, too, breathing heavily, my head positioned near her knees.
She laughs again, a low, throaty chuckle. I reach out and grab onto her leg, stroking her calf. Even those muscles are trembling. Wow indeed.
Part of me wants to talk to her, ask her why she's here tonight, how she knew I'd want to be with her even if I couldn't express it, but there's another part of me that just doesn't care. She's here. She's naked in my bed. If I'm as smart as I like to think I am, I won't question my good fortune. I'll just do everything in my power to make sure she doesn't regret losing sleep to be with me.
"Are you okay?" she asks softly, and I turn to press a kiss to her shin.
"Of course—why?"
"I've kind of left you hanging."
"No, I'm all right," I insist, even though I feel very much like I could combust. "I'm not in a rush."
She hums again; even though I'm so far gone that my hearing is buzzing and my vision isn't exactly the clearest, I'm truly content. I've had great sex tonight, orgasm or not, and now the woman of my dreams, for lack of a more original expression, is lounging on my bed, nude. It doesn't get much better than this.
I roll over onto my side, propping myself up a little. I trace the tips of my fingers up her leg, marveling to myself. Donna's body is nothing like I expected. She has such a narrow build that I sort of assumed that if I ever got this point with her, she'd almost feel like she could break in half. That couldn't be further from the truth.
I lean forward and press a kiss to her quad, smiling as it vibrates beneath my lips. Her muscles are strong. Not rock hard, but firmer than I ever would have thought. I'm not sure if she works out or if this is her natural state, but the same is true of her stomach muscles and biceps. They all have this lovely definition as they flex. And curves—she has more curves than any person her size I've ever encountered. She has these amazing hips and a wonderful ass, and full breasts that almost don't fit into my hands. I should feel like a letch scrutinizing her this way, but…I can't help it. I can't help but admire just how lovely she is, and how she seems to contradict herself in this way. Not that she necessarily has control over some of it; I've known her long enough and seen the way she eats to know that "willowy" is just her natural state of being. All the wonderful curves just work in counterpoint to that.
I look up at her to find her watching me through half-mast eyes, her chest still moving rapidly. I smile and return to my inspection.
I reach over to her right leg, running my fingers over the skin there. I come across something a little bumpy, just a little out of place, and I lift myself up, leaning over to investigate. I shudder a little when I see it, though more from the memories it brings back than anything else. In fact, the scar itself is faint, hardly noticeable, but all I can do is picture her lying in that hospital bed, her leg propped up, cuts and gashes all over her face…
I'm not sure how I haven't noticed the surgical scar before now, though we haven't done this so many times that I've been comfortable focusing on the minutia, nor have I necessarily thought about it. She moves without difficulty, never limping or cringing when she's been sitting too long, so I guess I don't think about it. Or I don't let myself think about it. Thinking about Donna lying helpless in a hospital bed, or on a table being prepped for surgery, or flying through the air as her car is blown up, is so horrible that I can't let myself consider it. I came too close to losing her then.
She shifts a little, somehow working her left leg from beneath me and picking it up; I watch in fascination as it arcs through the air before landing on the other side of me. I can take a hint—back to the fun stuff.
I kiss the inside of her thighs, running my tongue over the soft skin there. I move to her center and nuzzle my nose against her. She hisses and twitches, but doesn't push me away, and I vow to spend only a few moments in one of my new favorite locations. My tongue flicks out against her, and her hips jerk. I breathe in deeply, the essence of Donna even headier now, and even more of an aphrodisiac. Without even thinking about what I'm doing, I cover her with my mouth, suckling gently. I try to avoid direct contact with key areas, worrying that it might be too much too soon, and she bucks against me. I feel her hands in my hair, holding me in place. Seriously, I swear I could do this forever. Going down on Donna is now in my top five all-time favorite pastimes, and it has everything to do with knowing I can make her feel good.
I swipe at her a few more times with my tongue before I pull away, kissing my way up across her pelvis and hips, pausing at her stomach. God, even her bellybutton is perfect. I press my mouth against her skin, my teeth grazing against her, and I can feel her stomach muscles twitch. She keeps one of her hands in my hair, scratching at my scalp just a little—it's enough to send shivers down my spine.
I move upward to her chest, running my mouth over as much of her as I can reach, suckling at her breasts for a few seconds before continuing on, and I watch with satisfaction as her pale skin flushes, turning pink in the soft light of the bedside lamp.
"What's that word?" I ask, stroking her skin tenderly.
"What word?" she asks in return, one of her hands now running up and down my arm.
"I don't know—you used it to describe yourself."
"I've used a lot of descriptive words over the years, Josh. You're going to have to narrow it down."
I smile, pressing my lips to her sternum. "It was a fancier way of saying pale skin."
She pauses and I look up at her. She smiles slowly, still managing to give me a strange look. "Alabaster."
"Yeah, that's right—'alabaster.'"
"What made you think of that?"
I shrug, kissing the underside of one of her breasts. "Just noticing how nicely pink shows up on your skin, and I remembered that you didn't say you were pale. I just couldn't remember the rest of it."
"Well, I do have alabaster skin," she tells me defensively.
"I know," I answer, moving to the underside of her other breast.
"It's very delicate and sensitive."
"I'm sure it is." I slide up her until we're face to face. "Where'd you come up with that description, though?"
She sighs, and I watch her cheeks turn pink, matching the rest of her body. "It sounds nicer than calling myself 'pasty.'"
I feel a huge smile break out across my face, and she laughs self-deprecatingly. "I don't think I'd ever call you pasty," I assure her, but she just rolls her eyes. Her hand comes up to my neck, tugging me down to meet her for a kiss. It's not easy around my grin at first, but as her legs wrap around me, pulling me closer, the smile fades and I focus on her kissing her.
Her arm snakes in between us, and I groan into her mouth as she grasps me, moving her hand up and down gently, and I'm once against grateful for the barrier the condom creates.
She pulls at me, bringing me toward her entrance, and I manage to break away, pushing myself up to my knees. She stares at me, wide-eyed and confused, her chest heaving, and I shake my head.
"Hang on." With that, I pull off the condom we'd used just a few minutes ago and toss it in the trash, reaching over her to the nightstand to grab another. I have no idea what could have gotten on the first one as I was lounging on the bed, but I don't imagine it was anything that needed to be transferred to her. Sex may be messy, but if I can do anything to prevent something unpleasant getting into her, I'll do it.
She tilts her head as she watches me, and I can't read her expression. I feel oddly self-conscious as I roll the condom on me; I can't imagine why, though. She's seen me do it. She's helped me do it. I try to push away the sensation and settle myself more comfortably between her legs, still balancing on my knees. Her feet come up, bracing on either side of me, and I run my hands up her calves.
"You ready?" I ask, and she grins broadly, a twinkle in her eye.
"You tell me."
Even I can figure out that one. I reach in between us, gently sliding my fingers over her. She breathes a little heavier, her hips thrusting just a bit, pushing toward me, and I can't help but shudder. Yeah—she's ready.
I guide myself into her, pulling her hips off the bed, and close my eyes for a few moments. She moans a little, and I can feel her clench around me. I grab onto her thighs and pull her toward me, pushing all the way into her. Her eyes fly open, her back arches, and she cries out. I pause for just a moment to make sure it wasn't a cry of protest, but she reaches out and grabs my hands, a smile tugging at her lips.
"Good?" I ask anyway, just to be sure.
"Mmmm," she answers, wiggling herself closer to me. She stretches her legs suddenly, putting them straight in the air for just a few seconds before resting them against my shoulders.
"Oh, God, Donna," I groan, marveling at the view I have. I turn my head and kiss her leg, trying to get a grip on my traitorous body.
"Even better." She tightens herself around me, her eyebrow quirking up, and I take that as my cue. I pull out of her slowly, moving back into her at the same pace.
"Dear lord." I'm not even sure how that's my voice. It's so high-pitched and strained; it's almost embarrassing.
"Josh," she whines.
"What?" I ask, tightening my grip on her thighs. I feel a bead of sweat drip down my chest, and I rock my hips back and forth, pushing into her at a steady pace.
She pushes herself against me as quickly as her position will let her. "You don't have to go slow for me."
I can't help but chuckle just a little. "I think it might be more for me at this point."
She locks her ankles behind my head and I almost explode. "Don't hold back."
Apparently, that's all the encouragement that I need. I let go of her legs and lean forward a little, bracing my hands on the bed next to her hips. She bites her lip, her hands coming out to hold onto my forearms, and I start thrusting quickly. There's still a huge part of me that doesn't want this to end—that wants to drag this sensation out forever—but I honestly think that if I don't have an orgasm in the next few minutes, I will actually die.
I mean, at least I'd die inside of Donna, but I'm pretty sure I'd rather just have the orgasm.
"Yesssss," she whispers. Her fingernails dig into my skin. She tilts her head back, exposing the long line of her throat, and her back arches along with it. The movement of her breasts is hypnotic, and enough to distract me so that I can pound into her without losing control completely.
She lets out little moans in time to my movements, almost squeaking each time I slam into her. Part of me keeps waiting for her to tell me to stop, that I'm being too rough or that the angle doesn't work for her, but somehow, against all odds, she's responding to all this. I know that women aren't delicate, and I also know that they don't all want sex to be slow and romantic all the time, but that doesn't stop me from being worried that I'll do something wrong, or that I'll hurt her. Of course, that's been a genuine concern of mine for years, though in a much less physical way.
I lean forward some more, knowing I won't be able to hold myself up like this forever. The day has been too long, I haven't gotten enough sleep, and I'm getting too old to maintain sexual acrobatics. I think I'm pretty solid with the basics, and by now I've proven that I can certainly hold my own in bed, but I guess there are some things in this arena that might be for the younger, more athletic set. Damn it.
Still…she's not complaining, and that's really all I care about at this point.
As I lean into her further, her body almost folds in half, her knees nearly touching her shoulders. If I trusted my voice right now, I would say something snarky about never knowing how flexible she could be, but I think she'd hit me. Or, worse, get up and leave. Definitely not worth the risk.
She unlocks her ankles, her legs sliding down my arms until they rest over my elbows. I scoot up until my face is over hers and we're eye to eye. In my peripheral vision, I can her legs moving in time with each thrust, and it fascinates the hell out of me.
"Ohhhhhhh," she moans suddenly, her eyes going wide, and she wraps her arms around my neck. "That's good," she tells me in a gasp. "Right there, that's good, like that."
"You gonna come again?" I ask breathlessly, sliding my arms under her back. I wish I could sound suave asking that, but I'm fairly certain it comes out creepy.
"Yeaaaaahhh."
I know she said "right there," but I take a chance and switch it up a little, going from the back and forth motion to up and down, driving into her. Somehow, her eyes get wider. I have to pause for a few moments as I sink further into her than I think I've ever been.
"Holy shit," I whisper, not caring that I sound like some kid who's never had sex before. This feels incredible. I'd swear that right now, we were one person.
Her body shudders as she stares me; I can even feel her insides trembling. Her arms tighten around me, pulling me flush against her, our faces a millimeter apart as our eyes search each other's.
"Kiss me," she says, and I immediately press my lips to hers, our mouths moving in tandem. One of her hands holds onto the back of my neck, keeping me close.
My hips move a little, almost completely on their own, and she responds, pushing upward. I pull almost out of her, pushing back in gently as we kiss, keeping everything slow. She whimpers into my mouth, suddenly thrusting against me insistently, and I follow her lead; I start moving faster, resuming that up and down thing that seems to be doing it for her. Her nails dig into my back. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register the pain and that I might feel that later, but right now, it's completely irrelevant.
I break away from the kiss, gasping for air; she pants against me, her breath hot and damp on my skin. I bury my face in her neck. She shifts her legs a little and I immediately unhook them from my arms, amazed that she's managed to hold them up like that for so long. She keeps her knees up near my ribs, tightening against me, and I wrap my arms under her shoulders.
My body is all over the place. I can't manage to stick with one particular motion because it all feels amazing, and she's responding to everything. I can feel her lips against my neck for a few seconds, her teeth scraping at my skin, and then her voice is in my ear.
"Ohhhhh. Josh, yes yes, oh God, please, don't stop don't stop don't stop."
I don't think I could stop right now if my life depended on it. Everything in me is tight, aching for a release. The finish line is in sight. I just really want her to cross that line with me. I feel like she's so close.
"So good," she gasps, and I'm not sure if she's even aware that she's talking. "So good. Oh, yes!" She lets out a shriek, her head falling back against the bed, and I go faster. I go as fast as I can. I feel like I'm running a sprint. My groin tingles in anticipation.
Her eyes blink up at me, a little unfocused, and I manage to bring a hand up, pushing her hair back from her face. She looks like she wants to say something. I wish I had words right now. I barely have grunts. Everything in me is focused on maintaining this rhythm, this angle, everything. I grit my teeth, and watch as a bead of my sweat lands on her chest. She grabs onto my ass suddenly, holding me in place. Her mouth drops open. I can feel her hips moving in tiny circles, rubbing against me frantically. I still try to thrust as much as possible. God, I'm so close.
"JOSH!" she yells suddenly, and her body goes completely taut. Her inner muscles grip onto me like a vice, making everything feel so much more intense. It's taking everything I have to hold off. I just want to make sure she's actually coming before—
"JOSH!" she yells again, her voice louder, and she starts to undulate violently. Her body curls up around me, her hips thrusting wildly. She moans, burying her face in my neck.
I have no idea what happens next because I come undone.
My body jerks, everything uncoordinated as I gasp into her hair. I hold onto her tighter, probably leaving marks on her delicate skin. Her legs tighten around me, ankles locking at the small of my back, and I think I black out for a few seconds as I explode.
I'm pretty sure I'm dead.
She pushes against me frantically—that much I can feel—her body pulling at me desperately as she rides out her orgasm. I go tense, my entire body still except for the rough movements of my hips, and I finally yell out, unable to create any words. I collapse on top of her, completely useless, totally spent. She's still moving against me, though easier now. She makes soft noises in my ear, and her hands let go of my ass, coming up to stroke the damp skin of my back.
I realize hazily that this is probably as close to a simultaneous orgasm as anyone could ever hope for. It was intense. Feeling her break apart around me, following her seconds later, both of us finding release in each other…it's pretty incredible. I don't know if I could survive it happening again.
Aw, hell, who am I kidding? I think this is going to be my preferred method of orgasm for the rest of my life. I realize it's largely unobtainable, but I would be more than happy to keep trying.
I roll off her, and she moans in disappointment. I feel completely boneless. My chest heaves, and I don't know if I'll ever catch my breath. I manage to turn my head, looking over at her. Her face is red, flushed from exertion. With every ounce of strength I possess at that moment, I turn again, onto my side this time, and stroke my hand over her stomach. She wiggles a little, so I move down to between her thighs, running my fingers over her carefully. She gasps and bites her lip, her hips moving against my touch. She grabs onto my hand, holding it in place, and I watch in fascination as she finishes coming, amazed that it can last so long and happen in so many different ways.
She lets out a big sigh, a smile spreading across her face, and her body goes limp. I lighten my touch—I don't want to make it uncomfortable for her, but until she pushes me away, I'd really like to keep my hand where it is, stroking her softly. She shudders a little but makes no move to stop my ministrations.
She turns into me, her movements lazy, and I feel a twinge of disappointment as my hand falls away from her anyway. She blinks slowly, and if I weren't in the same boat, it would almost be funny. I shift a little, reaching down to pull off the condom. I roll over to toss it in the garbage when I realize the trashcan isn't next to the bed. I look around, confused, and it takes me far too long to realize that we're spread diagonally across the bed, our heads near the foot of it.
"Ugh," I groan, forcing myself to sit up. "C'mon."
"Where are we going?" she asks sleepily, and when I turn to look at her, she's stretching out like a cat. I wish I had more strength because there are a few things I'd really like to revisit right now.
"We gotta get into bed." I swing my feet over the edge of the mattress and stand on shaky legs, tossing the condom in the garbage. I grab the blankets, most of which managed to make their way onto the floor thanks to our escapades. I sit down a moment later in relief; my tired legs thank me. When I next look, Donna's crawling up the bed toward me. She pulls herself onto my lap, wrapping her limbs around me, and she kisses me.
My senses go on overload. Her damp, ever-so-slightly sticky body is pressed firmly against mine. There's absolutely no barrier between my rapidly deflating erection and the amazing heat still coming off of her in waves. And she's just kissing me. There's nothing frantic about it; she's just sitting on my lap, kissing me. While we're both naked.
She pulls away, smiling at me lazily as her fingers stroke the hair at the nape of my neck. "How are you feeling?"
"Pretty good," I answer, feeling what has to be a shit-eating grin spread across my face.
"Still fried?"
I blink a few times, the synapses in my brain finally firing long enough to help me figure out what she's talking about. "I don't think I have enough energy to be fried right now."
She presses her lips against mine again, and I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her tightly against me. Truthfully, I don't know if I could accurately describe how I feel right now. I feel good—I know that for sure. I'm somewhere beyond tired, but having out-of-this-world sex with Donna has made it a good tired. I just kind of want to hold her forever right now.
She moans a little, pulling back from me as she stretches again, her arms going straight out, her body stiff, and all I can do is stare at her chest as it aches toward me. Damn, but I wish I was twenty years old again. My head wants to do this all again so very badly—my body just doesn't have the ability to comply.
I lean forward anyway, not even aware that I'm doing it until I'm already latched onto one of her breasts, suckling carefully. I don't feel anything of mine stirring at the moment, but this seems like a good spot to set up residence.
I feel her hands on the sides of my head, and she dislodges me gently. I groan in protest, but she just grins and presses another quick kiss to my lips before sliding off my lap and maneuvering under the blankets in one smooth motion. I reach over and turn off the light, surprised to see it's not even eleven. I don't remember the last time I was in bed at this time. There's no way I'm going to be able to keep my eyes open for much longer, though.
I settle down into bed, Donna already on her side, facing me. I turn onto my side, too, blinking at her sleepily. She smiles and reaches toward me, her hand sliding lightly over my shoulder. "Aren't you cold?" I finally manage to ask, gesturing toward the blankets that are resting on her hips.
"Aren't you?" she counters.
"Why on earth would I be cold?"
"Why would I?"
I open my mouth, but I have no real answer for that. We're mirroring each other, the covers at my hips, too, chest exposed. I suppose I've always assumed that women's breasts were more sensitive to the cold, though I have no idea where that thought came from. It just seems like it should be a thing. I close my mouth and shrug.
"You can keep me warm, if you want to," she whispers, and I'm probably imagining it, but she sounds incredibly vulnerable.
Still, if she wants me to keep her warm, who am I to say no? I scoot toward her, wrapping my arm around her waist. She shifts until she's pressed firmly against me, her body long enough so that the contact is almost completely head to toe. I can't see much of her in the dark; her blonde hair and pale—no, alabaster—skin almost glow, but her face is unreadable. I can feel her breath hitting my skin. Her hand slides under my arm, her fingers stroking my side. I tighten my hold on her, rubbing what I hope are soothing circles on her back. She sighs contentedly.
I'm sure it's the blood that's filtering its way back into my brain, suddenly without a purpose, that makes me want to say things to her that I couldn't possibly begin to take back. Nor should I ever consider saying them to her any point after we have sex; I can't think of a way to sound more insincere. Still, I don't know if I've ever felt this content or relaxed. It's nice—really nice. There's something about the position we're in at the moment that feels so intimate and easy, and I want to promise her that it'll always be like this.
"Donna?" I whisper, my voice barely above a whisper. Silence. I hold my breath, listening, but her breathing is already even and deep. My ego inflates, sick pride filling my chest—I was so good in bed that I exhausted her. I wore her out. In fairness, she did the same for me and my body feels like lead right now. Still, it's always a nice boost for the self-confidence when you can make your woman pass out before you do.
My woman. I almost chuckle at that. Other than "my weakness," I don't know if I have any right to claim Donna as my own anything.
I tighten my hold on her, pulling her even closer against me. I shift a little, trying not to disturb her as I get her head tucked under my chin. She sighs, wiggling against me ever so slightly, pushing her leg between mine. I feel her fingers stroke my lower back just a little before her body goes limp, feeling like she's melted against me. Considering the last time we did this I barely actually managed to get her to spend the night, it feels like an incredibly positive sign that she seems right at home this time around. It's good. I really like that she just crawled in next to me, no hesitation, no questions. She fits nicely against me, too.
My eyes snap open and I blink at the dark, disoriented. I can see faint light coming in from the living room and I realize I must've forgotten to shut the lights off before going to bed. Hell, am I even in my own bed, or am I in some hotel on the other side of the country? I glance around, startled for just a second by the body next to mine, but then everything comes rushing back to me. I don't remember falling asleep—I only remember holding Donna.
Now, though, I've managed to roll onto my back but she's still facing me, her hand resting on my chest. There's not a lot of light in the room at the moment, but there's enough to see that she's managed to become even more beautiful. It's impressive.
I pick up her hand and press a kiss to the palm, laying it down gently next to her as I sit up. I still feel wiped, but my mind is already whirling, and I know I won't be able to get back to sleep. I glance over at the clock—it's almost three. I got in about four hours, which is almost a record lately.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed with a sigh, trying to figure out where my clothes wound up. I drop to the floor, feeling more than a little foolish as I grope around on my hands and knees, but I find most of my clothes pushed under the bed. I ignore most of it and grab my boxers and undershirt.
As I stand and pull on my clothes, I look over at Donna in bed, a million different feelings running through me. She really looks lovely lying there, and it's mind-blowing that she's in my bed. Not quite as mind-blowing as what we did a few hours ago, but it makes me pretty happy all the same. I sit down on the edge of the bed, studying her. She's dead to the world, her mouth open just a little. For a second I wonder what it'd be like to have her next to me every night, but I push that away. It's enough that she's here right now. I don't want to ask too much from the universe.
I consider crawling back into bed; even if I can't sleep, it might be nice to just to be here with her. I scrub my face with my hands, moving up to scratch my head. I don't have time to lounge around in bed. I don't have time for anything. There's so much work for me to do and not nearly enough time to do it.
I bite back a groan of frustration, turning to look at Donna once more. She looks so peaceful, and even though she's not exactly what I'd call old, she looks unbelievably young while sleeping. Reaching over, I carefully sweep her hair over her shoulder, taking a moment I shouldn't to run my fingers over her soft skin. I grab the blankets still pooled at her waist and pull them up, covering her so she doesn't get cold. I take a last long look and push myself off the bed, stopping for another moment as her small pile of jewelry on the nightstand catches my eye. It's such an odd thing to focus on, but it's just something else that looks like it belongs—Donna's stuff casually mingling with my own, though she'd probably have some little bowl or something on the dresser she'd put those things in if she were more of a regular here. I'm sure, if I were so inclined, that if I were to go check out her dress hanging in my closet, I'd get all moony over the way her clothes look next to mine. It's really ridiculous to focus on something that probably means nothing, especially with my brain functioning on so little sleep at this point. I give myself a mental shake and wander as quietly as possible into the living room, blinking at the light.
Pulling my laptop out of my bag, I power it up, tapping my finger anxiously on the table as I wait. I grab out a few notepads and pens, and when the computer still hasn't gotten there, I look around, anxious for something to do. I straighten the pillows on the couch, something I'm not sure I've ever done before, then grab Donna's coat off the floor, shaking it out. A wave of her gentle perfume hits me and I pull the jacket up to my nose, inhaling deeply. I shake my head a moment later, feeling ridiculous, and drape it over the arm of the couch, her cell phone falling out of the pocket and landing on the rug with hardly a sound. I pick it up, checking for damage, and grab her scarf a while I'm at it, putting it on top of her coat. I pick her bag off the floor and plop it on the chair. I look at all of the junk I dropped on the floor a few hours ago when I got home, but doing anything with it would mean waking Donna, and I'd rather let her sleep.
I move toward the kitchen, wincing as I kick something and it goes skittering across the floor—more because of the noise it makes than because it hurt. I pause for a few moments, holding my breath as I wait to see if the noise woke Donna. Everything is quiet. I let out a relieved sigh and move into the kitchen, my foot catching on something again. I chuckle a little as I realize it's her watch. I scoop it off the floor, examining it in the light of the refrigerator as I open the door, grabbing a Red Bull. I crack it open as quietly as possible, chugging it as I stare at her watch, just as fascinated with this piece of her lying about as her pile of jewelry. I crumple the empty can and toss it on the counter and grab another before I trek back to the living room. I put her phone and watch on the table, feeling a little amused that in the short time she was in the area earlier, she managed to get her stuff everywhere.
I sigh, shaking my head. I must still be post-coital. I'm getting way too sappy about how her jewelry and accessories look here. I open the second Red Bull and take a long drink; it's more of a habit at this point than thinking it's actually doing any good. I'm long-since immune to its effects, but I keep hoping. Plus, after you've had case of it the space of three days, it almost tastes palatable.
I shake my head again—vigorously this time—and put down the can, parking myself in a chair at the table. I need to focus on the transition and not the woman lying in my bed just a few yards down the hall. I open up a couple of files on the laptop, flip open a notepad and start to write.
And that's all she wrote. Hope you all enjoyed my interpretation of this particular evening. If I'd been willing to put in a little more effort, I might have been able to split this one up, too, but oh well. The less coitus interuptus, the better, am I right? For those playing the home game, the stories I wrote side by side are both monstrous—closing in on 10,000 words each—so I'm thinking they'll have to be broken up a bit, too. I realize this is a first world problem, but it's plaguing me. Anyway, again, hope you found this entertaining. Feel free to shoot me a message if you want to ramble on endlessly about our love for fictional characters.