piece of bread coming up.”
I walk into the kitchen and find some French bread and put it on a plate. I hand it to Wade.
“Thanks,” he says. “It’s 4am. Sorry about all this, Erin.”
“Hey, alcohol will make us do funny things,” I say. “And you’ve seen me at my worst. I can have your clothes dry in 45 minutes.”
“It’s okay. Just put the clothes in and go back to sleep,” he says chewing on the dry bread. “I’ll crash out on your couch, if you don’t mind, until the city impound opens.”
“Let me find something for you to wear,” I say and return to my bedroom. I find some oversized sleep boxers that were a present but I have never actually used.
When I return to Wade I find him lying with his legs hanging over the edge of my couch which is more of a love seat. He’s using the towel as a blanket. “Here, try these,” I say and hand him the boxers.
“Maybe I’ll just sleep on the floor,” he says giving up on the love seat. He stands turning away and letting the towel drop.
I spin around as quick as possible, but not before the image of his near perfect butt burns into my mind. His backside seemed almost muscular and much paler than his tan back and thighs.
“What do you think?” he says.
I turn nervously around to the intoxication of his grin. My big sleep boxers are tight around his strong thighs and they are, what I can only describe as, strangling his manhood. There’s a moment when I realize I am staring at all of him, itemizing him like he is a hot image online.
I snap out of it. “You can’t sleep on the floor. It’s too hard and the loveseat is too small.” That has to be my subconscious choosing those words. “Take my bed,” I say blushing. “I often sleep out here. I’m little.”
He smiles at me in a way that makes me shy. “Erin,” he says softly, “I’m not going to bust in here and make you sleep on the couch too.”
I lift my eyes to let him see how vulnerable he makes me. I hope he’ll give me a break and help me get through this night. “I’ll go get your clothes started,” I say with an unintended whisper. “Just, I don’t know, you can go sleep in my room and stay on your side of the bed.”
His clothes are waiting for me in the bathroom. I scoop them up. They are wet and heavy. The stupid boy got nostalgic in the rain and raced over here drunk. He got cold feet. He got drunk.
He wants to escape his reality. It’s nothing. It’s not me. He’ll sleep it off and in the morning return to his regularly-scheduled life.
-10-
Wade sleeps in my bed. I find him there already passed out. I know this is good news but a profound disappointment overcomes me. His eyes had been dazzling me and I wanted another drink or two of them before we turned down the lights.
When I snap off the small lamp near my dresser my room becomes totally dark. I hang up my robe and slowly slide under my sheet and comforter. I am now in the dark alone in my own bed with Wade. I don’t know how we arrived here but I know I never want it to end.
“Wade,” I whisper to check on him. Nothing. He will not wake and when he does he will probably awkwardly apologize and depart. This is my one night with Wade, for better or worse. I move my hand slowly under the blankets. When it nears the heat of his back I stop. I let my fingers linger there as close to his skin as possible without touching.
Suddenly I reach out all five fingers to experience the wonder of his skin near his shoulder blade. His life force ignites my cells. I quiver and hunger and flower for him. I put my other hand over my mouth as the thrill becomes audible escaping my lips as a sudden gasp.
Enough. I pull my hand away and turn over. We are back-to-back a couple feet apart. The darkness all around us and the desire to be touching him work together to spark a nervous electricity in my veins.
Every inch of me, skin and bone, heart and mind, possesses a single tantalizing thought. Wade. I am forgetting the
I walk into the kitchen and find some French bread and put it on a plate. I hand it to Wade.
“Thanks,” he says. “It’s 4am. Sorry about all this, Erin.”
“Hey, alcohol will make us do funny things,” I say. “And you’ve seen me at my worst. I can have your clothes dry in 45 minutes.”
“It’s okay. Just put the clothes in and go back to sleep,” he says chewing on the dry bread. “I’ll crash out on your couch, if you don’t mind, until the city impound opens.”
“Let me find something for you to wear,” I say and return to my bedroom. I find some oversized sleep boxers that were a present but I have never actually used.
When I return to Wade I find him lying with his legs hanging over the edge of my couch which is more of a love seat. He’s using the towel as a blanket. “Here, try these,” I say and hand him the boxers.
“Maybe I’ll just sleep on the floor,” he says giving up on the love seat. He stands turning away and letting the towel drop.
I spin around as quick as possible, but not before the image of his near perfect butt burns into my mind. His backside seemed almost muscular and much paler than his tan back and thighs.
“What do you think?” he says.
I turn nervously around to the intoxication of his grin. My big sleep boxers are tight around his strong thighs and they are, what I can only describe as, strangling his manhood. There’s a moment when I realize I am staring at all of him, itemizing him like he is a hot image online.
I snap out of it. “You can’t sleep on the floor. It’s too hard and the loveseat is too small.” That has to be my subconscious choosing those words. “Take my bed,” I say blushing. “I often sleep out here. I’m little.”
He smiles at me in a way that makes me shy. “Erin,” he says softly, “I’m not going to bust in here and make you sleep on the couch too.”
I lift my eyes to let him see how vulnerable he makes me. I hope he’ll give me a break and help me get through this night. “I’ll go get your clothes started,” I say with an unintended whisper. “Just, I don’t know, you can go sleep in my room and stay on your side of the bed.”
His clothes are waiting for me in the bathroom. I scoop them up. They are wet and heavy. The stupid boy got nostalgic in the rain and raced over here drunk. He got cold feet. He got drunk.
He wants to escape his reality. It’s nothing. It’s not me. He’ll sleep it off and in the morning return to his regularly-scheduled life.
-10-
Wade sleeps in my bed. I find him there already passed out. I know this is good news but a profound disappointment overcomes me. His eyes had been dazzling me and I wanted another drink or two of them before we turned down the lights.
When I snap off the small lamp near my dresser my room becomes totally dark. I hang up my robe and slowly slide under my sheet and comforter. I am now in the dark alone in my own bed with Wade. I don’t know how we arrived here but I know I never want it to end.
“Wade,” I whisper to check on him. Nothing. He will not wake and when he does he will probably awkwardly apologize and depart. This is my one night with Wade, for better or worse. I move my hand slowly under the blankets. When it nears the heat of his back I stop. I let my fingers linger there as close to his skin as possible without touching.
Suddenly I reach out all five fingers to experience the wonder of his skin near his shoulder blade. His life force ignites my cells. I quiver and hunger and flower for him. I put my other hand over my mouth as the thrill becomes audible escaping my lips as a sudden gasp.
Enough. I pull my hand away and turn over. We are back-to-back a couple feet apart. The darkness all around us and the desire to be touching him work together to spark a nervous electricity in my veins.
Every inch of me, skin and bone, heart and mind, possesses a single tantalizing thought. Wade. I am forgetting the
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