Post by Jack Lupus on Jan 19, 2009 22:01:59 GMT -5
Cass pulled away slightly from the embrace, undoing another button of his shirt. Closing her eyes, she slid her hands to his chest and traced her fingers over his collarbone. She didn’t need to look; her fingers knew the way, as they did over every part of him, neural pathways etched into her brain, tread and retread and committed to memory years before, as if she’d known from the start that she’d need to rely on her memories to see him.
“I used to dream about you,” She said, undoing the rest of the shirt as she trailed her fingers down his chest. “After I…left, and when I woke up. Months gone- then seven years, and I’d still wake up in the night, thinking you’d just left the room, certain I could smell you there. Even the mattress felt warm.”
She undid his pants and pushed them down over his hips. “Some nights it was just like that, dreaming you were sleeping there beside me. Other nights…” She shivered and slipped one hand into his shorts, while the other tugged them off. “Other nights I’d wake up aching for you, sweating, so wet I barely needed to touch myself to come. I could never remember what I’d been dreaming but I knew it was about you, even when I told myself it wasn’t.”
She slid her hands down his hips, then ran her finger tips down the inside of his thighs. “I used to fantasize about you. I tried not to. I’d start imagining someone else, anyone else, but it always turning into you. I’d close my eyes and remember what you smelled like, what you tasted like. Sometimes it wasn’t enough, and I’d call your cell phone and listen to your voice on the machine. It never sounded like you – not the real you- but if I concentrated just right, and tuned out the words, I could hear your voice, and that always worked.”
“I used to dream about you,” She said, undoing the rest of the shirt as she trailed her fingers down his chest. “After I…left, and when I woke up. Months gone- then seven years, and I’d still wake up in the night, thinking you’d just left the room, certain I could smell you there. Even the mattress felt warm.”
She undid his pants and pushed them down over his hips. “Some nights it was just like that, dreaming you were sleeping there beside me. Other nights…” She shivered and slipped one hand into his shorts, while the other tugged them off. “Other nights I’d wake up aching for you, sweating, so wet I barely needed to touch myself to come. I could never remember what I’d been dreaming but I knew it was about you, even when I told myself it wasn’t.”
She slid her hands down his hips, then ran her finger tips down the inside of his thighs. “I used to fantasize about you. I tried not to. I’d start imagining someone else, anyone else, but it always turning into you. I’d close my eyes and remember what you smelled like, what you tasted like. Sometimes it wasn’t enough, and I’d call your cell phone and listen to your voice on the machine. It never sounded like you – not the real you- but if I concentrated just right, and tuned out the words, I could hear your voice, and that always worked.”