The cool air coming in from the open window kept the space beneath the covers all the more warm and inviting yet more so were the arms of another. To lay there and listen to another's heart beating after having slid into the shared warmth beneath the sheets was so intoxicating to her senses, sometimes it gave Amanda cause to wonder how much of this was dream and how much was real.
Dreaming, how much it meant, to draw on the ephemeral world that was just beyond touch, a miasma of warm color ever just within sight, indescribable yet occasionally felt. Felt. Feelings that coursed through one's veins. Do you know what it's like to reach out and touch a dream and hold it to your arms? To feel its kiss blow across your cheek like it meant to say something but was afraid someone else would hear?
Someone else.
It was two in the morning and her lover was asleep. So peaceful. Always so very peaceful really, a sleeper yet somewhere within those eyes she'd found a heart that woke up in her presence. At first a giddy unease, and then a few shared glances. Ever the eyes, Christ, what was it about those eyes? Moon touched pools one could get lost in.
Then there was that afternoon when the snow was falling and that brutal wind was whipping down the street, and through the city while cars, trucks and city buses coursing down the main street made the going rather hard. They'd been planning to wait for the bus, but transit strikes made that hellish and it was so cold. So with probably five to ten minutes or so to wait and a whipping chiller that refused to relent outside they took to a restaurant walk-in area, ostensibly to use the pay phone.