By the River (from The Chambers of Imagination)
She woke with a start, still in a midnight room, reached across to an empty bed, reached to where she expected him to be. The space she found echoed through the apartment.
As her eyes focused she rose, robed and roamed through the house, roamed to see where his insomnia had taken him. She had long understood his erratic patterns of sleep. The thought that he only slept deeply when she was in his bed balanced the occasions he wandered on his own.
She found a note in the entranceway, "By the river. Don't worry." Worry was not the consideration, she missed the warmth of his presence, the rhythm of his breathing to mark off the hours of darkness. Even if he felt the need to pursue the images that filled his sleepless eyes, she would track him to his isolation and find fulfillment there.
There was a long light coat in the hall closet, formal in an insouciant sort of way. She didn't care for the manner it buttoned up the front but for this excursion it would be the perfect wardrobe, the perfect camouflage to pass through the night streets and into his arms.
Three blocks, over the walkway and she was on the path along the water, walking in his echo, searching the shadows for his profile on a bench.
She could feel him close by, sitting in silence. She paused, hoping he wasn't too deep in his reflections to reach out. "Even in the palest of light you're beautiful." The night could not obscure their recognition of each other. "I can tell you from your sway. Sense you from your perfume."
Standing there in front of him reclining on the bench she slowly unfastened the buttons one by one letting the coat fall open to her nakedness.
It was as if they could see through the dimness, he knowing the taut lushness of her curves, she aware of what the looseness of his pants could not disguise.
She stepped to the bench, above and offering, lowered herself onto his waiting phallus, embracing his body with hers, drawing from him warmth, giving to him silent ecstasy.
Her movements were slow and deliberate. She just wanted to be. Ticking clocks whose hands he brushed away as he cupped the cheeks of her ass, massaging his longing into her languid motion.
It was more of a caress, a sensual quiescence, like the gentle touch of the others body during slumber, their orgasms muted affection in the first light of dawn.
As they walked back her skin was flush with satiety in the early morning glow.
She woke with a start, still in a midnight room, reached across to an empty bed, reached to where she expected him to be. The space she found echoed through the apartment.
As her eyes focused she rose, robed and roamed through the house, roamed to see where his insomnia had taken him. She had long understood his erratic patterns of sleep. The thought that he only slept deeply when she was in his bed balanced the occasions he wandered on his own.
She found a note in the entranceway, "By the river. Don't worry." Worry was not the consideration, she missed the warmth of his presence, the rhythm of his breathing to mark off the hours of darkness. Even if he felt the need to pursue the images that filled his sleepless eyes, she would track him to his isolation and find fulfillment there.
There was a long light coat in the hall closet, formal in an insouciant sort of way. She didn't care for the manner it buttoned up the front but for this excursion it would be the perfect wardrobe, the perfect camouflage to pass through the night streets and into his arms.
Three blocks, over the walkway and she was on the path along the water, walking in his echo, searching the shadows for his profile on a bench.
She could feel him close by, sitting in silence. She paused, hoping he wasn't too deep in his reflections to reach out. "Even in the palest of light you're beautiful." The night could not obscure their recognition of each other. "I can tell you from your sway. Sense you from your perfume."
Standing there in front of him reclining on the bench she slowly unfastened the buttons one by one letting the coat fall open to her nakedness.
It was as if they could see through the dimness, he knowing the taut lushness of her curves, she aware of what the looseness of his pants could not disguise.
She stepped to the bench, above and offering, lowered herself onto his waiting phallus, embracing his body with hers, drawing from him warmth, giving to him silent ecstasy.
Her movements were slow and deliberate. She just wanted to be. Ticking clocks whose hands he brushed away as he cupped the cheeks of her ass, massaging his longing into her languid motion.
It was more of a caress, a sensual quiescence, like the gentle touch of the others body during slumber, their orgasms muted affection in the first light of dawn.
As they walked back her skin was flush with satiety in the early morning glow.