The warm days of summer gone. The sweaty, humid afternoons gone. The cool air of autumn coming back. Nice comfortable afternoons, cool afternoons. You feel so much more comfortable, cuddled up to me evenings in our Cottage in Newmarket, New Hampshire, all natural wood and lavender potpourris, pine and the noise of owls in the night and the occasional rattatat of the woodpeckers. Breakfasts of warm eggs, and bacon, coffee, the sweet smell of toast. The comfortable days back, blue skies, thick skirts, clean air, quiet moments and dry dusted surfaces.
You feel in a particularly warm mood. Remembering the hot summer days, you lay on the thick mattress in the bedroom on the patchwork quilt and close your eyes and dream, dream of the hot afternoons cleaning the windows, washing the car, the hot rays of the sun on your forehead, and the beads of sweat wiped off by the kerchiefs, and the wet cloth of your cotton T-shirt clinging to your body as you worked the garden, and painted the shed and fell on the backyard lounge chair to rest.
Your dreams flickered.
In the sleep of your dreams you do not hear me enter in the afternoon I chose to take off. You do not see me standing by you near the soft bed in smiles at your half asleep state. You do not watch me walking to the fridge as you dream of the hot summer days. You are not aware how I take from the freezer the condom filled with water I put there last night, How I rip the rubber off the ice dick and walk to the bedroom, watching you lying asleep.