We were there, at the same time, in the same place... but we were worlds apart. We walked the same sturdy ground where all that is easy and right rests. Where all things normal reside. We sense the same vibrations, taste the same sweetness of the rain. We breathe the same air and feel the same wind on our faces. Yet we see things so differently.
I am steadfast, relentless, determined, and content. You are upset, reckless, restless, and hungry. You are a dreamer, and I am a believer. We are dangerous for each other. We are messy, us two, and you frighten me.
The room is quiet. Soundless and empty. I sit alone in the cool air of the fan contemplating nothing. Wondering what I should be doing... reflecting on my day. You walk in and for the first time in a long time the ground moves. Vertigo sets in and I jump with a shock. The room is empty. Just me and you. Your gaze steals away my thoughts and wipes my memory clean. What was I thinking about again? What was I going to do? What had I been doing? Gone. Just you and me.
You close the door behind you and I look away finally. I know that you saw that look in my eyes, but you shake it off and walk past me to put your things away in another room. Your scent lingers and I sneak a deep breath, trying to calm my blood. It is racing from your closeness, but you were on the other side of the door when I sensed you coming... it's a painful ache but I know when you are near. When you walk past I can't breathe. I can't move.
You come back, and I pretend to be distracted. I pretend I don't know you are watching me. I pretend like I am busy and important and it makes me feel guilty because I beg to know how you are. I beg to know everything about you. I want to be part of it. I look up and try to speak. I just smile instead because everything I planned to say has just been wiped clean again. No recollection or inkling of the rehearsed lines. Stage fright... its pitiful. You would think that by now I would have it down pat. The same old lines. The same expressions. Day after day after day after day.
I blink and turn away, and you do the same. It isn't awkward. No. It's just quiet. That quiet that makes my throat hot and my stomach ache. That quiet that makes the back of my neck itch and makes me want to adjust my hair or fidget uncomfortably. You don't make me this way, I do. I overthink everything. I overplan everything. I overanalyze the simplest, most beautiful things until there is nothing left but washed up and worn out facts. Facts aren't fun. I need fun. I need excitement. So I look back toward you.
You are turned away from me for a moment and I see your body from behind. Your shoulders, broad and lean. Toned and rippled. I see the curves of your back and the sleekness of your arms. Not thin. But sleek. I watch for a moment as you move. Like a jaguar. Ripped, and smooth, and ready to pounce.
You turn and catch me again. I want to look away but I can't. I am locked into your gaze. My stomach is weak, my pupils dilated, and I am numb. My skin is hot from the blood pulsing, and I feel my veins expand as the adrenaline rises at my core. Nothing around me, just silence and stillness, and I notice your lips curve in challenge. The slightest smile gives away your amusement, and your brow twitches just so. You have been made, and our secret is out in the open. I feel my jaw drop as I inhale. My tongue is dry and tied but I do not need words. Nature has spoken.
I cannot take it, I must go. I must be free, and be alone. I cannot wait I cannot change for what I feel will cause so much pain. I know I should not want things I cannot have, and I have all I could ever want in life. I have a child I have a husband and I am a happy wife.
The moment is over and I proceed to other things. Petty distractions and lame excuses.
Standing in front of the mirror I try to view myself in your eyes. My long, thick, auburn locks cascade down my back and tumble over my shoulders and collar bones. Gray eyes pierce through your words and into their meaning. My heavy pout gives way to a hungry mouth and willing tongue. My teeth waiting to nibble on your neck. Creamy skin, ivory even, smooth and fresh. Dappled with fair freckles and glowing with lust. Begging to be touched. I reach up and pull my shirt up over my head. The fabric tickles my arm and brushes my leg on its fall to the ground. I take a second look. Full, proud, healthy breasts on display, yours for the taking. Waiting patiently adorned in black lace and red ribbon. Red. The color of passion. The color of blood. The color of desire. My skirt hits the ground and lands at my feet. Long, shapely legs and smooth feminine curves. Legs for wrapping around you. Hips ready to welcome your grasp. One quick swipe over my body and I imagine my hand is yours. The thought makes me dizzy, my skin crawls with bumps as my hairs stand on end.
The steam from the shower billows out past the curtain. Heartily filling the room with its urgency. The water pours down my face and soaks me warm. I crank it up to feel the burn on my body, and wish it could match the burn inside. Lathered in a rich crème I slowly massage myself clean. I cannot wash away my fantasies though. They are impatient. They have stained my soul and I cannot rub them free.