Desperation
It has been a long week. Slow, steadily creeping up to the weekend, which I don't even know if I want to arrive. I used to be so excited about our days together, always counting the hours down on a Friday to the two days and three nights of just you and I against the world. We used to spend lazy mornings in bed, enjoying each other's bodies, exploring the curves and dents we assumed we knew so well, till we came across a mole, wrinkle, curve, that seemed new, exciting, unexplored. We used to hurry our chores or errands to get back to the privacy of our room, our playground, our solitude.
These days the daily grind for you at work, and the mundane tasks of a housewife have taken over our lives. We have become a tired old couple, no more midnight romps in the bedroom, or whisperings of sweet nothings in each other's ears, not even the quick glances or slight touches in the passage reminding each other that even though busy we are still there. Clearly, the honeymoon is over.
With washing on the line, and the house spick and span, I decide to retreat to what used to be our little bit of heaven, lift my feet and delve into the escape of a story, hopefully to push my reality of life aside for a few moments.
The more I read, the more my mind wanders. I can't escape this. I can't escape my need for you. The longing for your touch that so easily ignites flames on my soft skin. The feel of your lips on mine, and your tongue exploring the depths of my mouth, kissing me till I no longer have oxygen in my lungs, but only the life force your breath provides.
I try to continue reading, but the words all melt into one another on the page. I put my book down. I know its forbidden, but I wearily sit up, rising to my feet, and head for the forbidden drawer of toys. I know I am not allowed to open it, never mind touch the tools of our love without your permission, but the need to reach climax and let go of the emotions is so intense.