A Stolen Moment

Author's Note: I have been slacking in my Lit writing/participation and I just wanted to put something out there. The following is JUST over the Lit word limit and contains no sex, but I hope it has enough erotic themes to warrant being put on here. I hope to have something bigger soon!

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It was one of those clear, gelid nights when you could follow the wisps of your own breath on a stroll through town. I used to like the cold. It made you layer up and cuddle down, perfect for sharing secrets over hot cocoa under warm blankets.

I still had had the layers - a pea coat to shrug up over my shoulders, moleskin gloves to plunge into my pockets - but the spot on my left felt abysmally empty. If I looked ahead hard enough it felt almost like I could lean to the side and feel him there, solid but soft against my shoulder. I knew just how it would feel, having committed it to memory by accident.

His arm would slip around my waist and squeeze me in, letting shelter under his shoulder with my head against his chest. We had done it so much that it was easy to walk like that. We would wander around talking about nothing and smiling at all the people we passed by, so snug in our own small happiness we thought the rest of the world must feel the same way.

Well, he was gone now and no one would have to worry about our public displays of affection. If we had bothered anyone with our coupliness then maybe we paid them back with schadenfreude in one of our public spats. "And there go the lovebirds," these vindictive, hypothetical observers could have quipped.

Anyways, that was over now, and over for the better even though it left me with the occasional night craving. I missed a lot of things. I missed the sex, I missed the kink, and I missed the moments when we really did click and could just sit there talking about nothing. But right then I just missed knowing he was there.

There was a coffee shop on the road I was wandering, and I was flirting with the idea of going in for a hot chocolate. I liked excuses for my walks and it seemed nice to go where it was warm and read one of the pulpy free papers that they gave out for free.

It was just down the block, a garish flair of light against the pristine night, with smokers huddled near the gas heaters on the patio making small talk talk.

I hadn't really decided on going in even as I walked towards the building, but the decision had a kind of inertia and I went with it. Right before the building there was a narrow alley with a dumpster, and there was a perfect angle, just as the back of the alley came into view where I could see them.

They were a young couple. It was hard to make out much more than that under their bulky winter clothes, but she had a long peroxide blonde hair that spilled out from under her cap and he was tall with his back to me, but I could see a strong jaw.

I should have kept walking. They had come out for their privacy, and I had no business intruding on their special little moment. But I could make out the smile on her face, and I couldn't help myself.

I noticed they were holding hands, even though they were both wearing gloves. Neither of them saw me, or even looked, they figured their hiding place was safe from prying eyes. He said something, and she stifled a laugh. And then they kissed.

It was this slow, deep kiss, the kind that you have to figure out together as a couple. She melted back against the wall and he sank against her. It moved them behind the dumpster, and I should have moved on, but instead I carefully moved slightly into the alley, just enough to see her mouth meeting his. He was so confident in that kiss, his body eclipsing hers, gloved fingers, his gloved fingers toying with her hair.

It was the kind of kiss a girl could lose herself in and never want to be found. Even just watching.

I remembered kisses like that. His soft lips, his tongue, his hands, his body. The way his kisses had grown from the first nervous pecks into the long rolling explorations on my bed. I wondered how long it had taken these two to find this perfect formula, and I wondered if I ever would again.

It hurt. It really fucking hurt.

I couldn't make it to the shop. I just went home.