by Chad Norton
A moonlit figure passed through the open french window and into the room. An instant later, the low-burning bedside candle flickered, reviving its cinnamon scent as the sheets momentarily raised off of her, allowing the cool night air to invade her bed before his naked, hard body pressed against her soft back.
“You’re late.” She stiffened on her side and slid away from his presence. “You’re late. Again.”
“Yeah, I know,” his warm, low voice apologized. “I’m sorry. Again.”
He noticed the over-crowded ice bucket in a stand on the far side of the bed. It held bottles of alcohol-free beer, no longer chilled.
“What was it this time? What disaster couldn’t they manage without you?” she snipped, pulling her feet up and away from his massaging toes.
“The usual,” he replied, bending forward to sniff behind her ear.
“’The usual’ is right. How about a phone call? Is that too much to ask?”
He straightened slightly and took a patient breath. “You know I can’t carry a phone when I’m working.”
She remained silent as his slow hand slid up her spine over her loose, thick sweatshirt, the new lingerie she’d worn hours earlier lay unappreciated at the foot of the bed next to his bright red briefs.
“I got distracted. I didn’t think.”
“Well, tell me something I don’t know.” She tugged at the bed sheet.
“I didn’t think to call,” he started, and as his hand found that spot on her neck and his thumb worked her shoulder blade, he added, “but I always think of you.”
“Christ,” she said. “I’m in bed with a Hallmark card.”
She tried to pull away from his steel grip but then thought better of it and turned, half facing him on her elbow. “Why don’t you just leave? I don’t need this.”
But even as she buffeted his advances, he sensed her heartbeat quickening and inched his body closer. His eyes could easily see through the bold Lakers logo on her chest and he knew her nipples were beginning to peak with interest.
“If you really want me to go, I will,” he offered, raising his right hand to soften her other shoulder. “I didn’t come here to upset you.”
Thirty seconds, and a few squeezes of his right hand later, she surrendered. Her neck went limp and her head flopped carelessly backward, hovering over her pillow. She looked at him dreamily with her upside down eyes, “You are such an asshole.”
Then she let her hand fall to his hip and with one teasing finger drew purposeful, random shapes before tracing a meandering path down, around and over his thigh, where all five of her fingers found something to hold onto.
His blue, piercing eyes looked back at her from darkened features – one of which was a big, fat smile.
The early morning moon was still high, spotlighting images of dancing leaves on the decorative shutters of the open second floor window, when passionate sounds were replaced with passionate voices.
“I have to go.”
“No. No. Not this time,” she said. She was straddling his body, her breasts glistened faintly in the lunar light. “This time we’re gonna talk, Romeo.”
She leaned over him, dabbing his chest with her sweet and natural perfume, and turned on a small table lamp to his right. She squinted and he used his hand to block the light and protect her adjusting eyes.
“Would ya stop it?” She pushed his hand back to the mattress. “Stop being a hero. We’re gonna have a fight.”
He gyrated his body comfortably beneath her and complied, “Ok. I’m not about to hit a lady, but you can swing away.”
“Cute,” she said. Then, fixing him with her most intimidating stare, she rallied.
“First off, we don’t spend enough time together. You come around for a little nookie, but when we make plans, half the time you show up late and the other half you don’t show up at all. You’re lucky I don’t run off with the FedEx guy.”
“I thought you had a thing for uniforms,” he smirked. “But seriously, I’m late sometimes, not always, and we do spend time together when your clothes are on.”
She stared back at him with a tilted face. “For instance?”
“Just last weekend. I picked you up and flew you to Vegas myself,” he said, palms facing skyward. “Spur of the moment, and I believe that was even my idea.”
Her eyes rolled.
“We spent a total of three hours there. I pulled maybe two quarter slots and got in four losing hands of black jack before they called you back to the city to deal with some big, monster problem,” she batted, points scored. “No dinner. No romance. I didn’t even get frequent flyer miles for that trip.”
“I’ll try to do better,” he promised and like a puppy wanting to please, walked his fingers between her legs.
She slapped at his hand, sending it back where it came from.
“The other thing is, we never talk, I mean really talk,” she went on. “Sure, I talk…”
“You certainly do,” he interrupted with a weak grin. “No problem there.”
Ignoring him, she continued, “But you, you never do. My mom asks me questions about you, I feel like I don’t even know you.”
“I’d like to meet your mother, we should set something up.”
“Fine. But not ‘til you start talking,” she demanded. “I’m getting tired of this shit.”
She ran a hand through her auburn hair, momentarily pulling bangs away from her sparkling, emerald eyes. He reached out almost hypnotically to her near porcelain-perfect skin and let his finger glide over her surface, where it could find no fault at all.
“Whatever you say.” His voice was blissful.
“Not whatever I say, whatever you say. You’re doing the talking.” She took hold of his finger and planted it along with the rest of his hand firmly at his side. He reciprocated by grasping her retreating hand and caressing the back of it with his thumb, another favorite pastime.
“So what would you like to talk about?” He bent his other arm behind his head and awaited her reply. His biceps bulged.
“You. Meathead!” She pulled her hand from his and struck a delicate fist against his chest just for emphasis, but still had to rub the resulting soreness from her knuckles.
“Oww.” Her face grimaced.
“Hey careful,” he said, and then tried to lighten the mood. “You’re tough but that’s some bullet-proof stuff there.”
The levity didn’t work. A moment later, her shoulders drooped and her face fell in on itself, gathering in creases between her eyebrows. She lowered her head.
“I want to know the man,” she said and then paused for a breath, “that I’ve fallen in love with.” And with that she began to tremble with silent quakes of emotion.
“Fallen in love with…” he said it aloud and repeated it again with only his lips, dizzy with the phrase. When he placed his hands on her knees, she shivered at his touch but as he began to speak again, her body calmed, melding into his.
“I’ve loved you from the very beginning, that first day on the tracks,” he soothed. “I swooped down to pull you from the car just before the train hit, and you were so beautiful, so strong. You smiled like you weren’t afraid, but I knew you were, and then I saw your eyes, your amazing eyes… and I was powerless. That was when I fell in love, right there on the tracks.”
She took a staggered breath and sniffled. He refocused watery eyes.
“After we flew out of there, I didn’t want to let go. I almost couldn’t,” he admitted. “You want to know who I am?”
A solitary tear fell from her cheek to rest near his navel where she absently dipped and lost fingernails in the grooves of his stomach.
“You are all I am.”
With a gentle hand, he held her chin and raised her gaze to his and then watched as the most beautiful smile he had ever seen grew across her face.
“That, mister, just earned you round two.”
The moon was sinking into the Pacific’s horizon to the west when the first rays of eastern sunlight painted a golden, post-modern block on the bedroom wall opposite the open window. She snuggled, still sleeping, safe inside his embrace. He gave a light squeeze, hugged himself against her heat and kissed the back of her head before easing himself out from around her.
She awoke to find him dressed and standing by the window, the warm, yellow light discovered every mountain and valley of his brightly muscled landscape.
“I really do have to go,” he said without looking behind him. “I’m sure they need me.”
“I know,” she said. “They always do.” She crawled across the bed to stand beside him in the sunlight. “But I’m only letting them borrow you.”
He lifted her in his arms, raising her lips to his so that their tongues could say goodbye.
“See you tonight. 8 o’clock,” he said, setting her down softly.
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” she razzed. “Hey, hold on. You’re crooked.”
Her hands gripped the material that stretched across his broad shoulders. “If I sent you off like this, what kinda wife-in-training would I be?”
She push-pulled counter-clockwise and straightened the insignia on his chest, he looked down and kissed her forehead.
“You’d still be pretty super,” he said.
A smile caved dimples in her cheeks and she gave him a “get going” nod. And as he left the room, she closed the window behind him.