Room 122
Tossing her leather bag onto the bed she waits stretched as tight as a drum. Her heart feels like Thor's war hammer is beating against it. The tension in the back of her neck is making her crouch forward.
Sit up straight, she says to herself.
Don't say too much when he walks in. And DON'T look him in the eye.
The eyes are a dead giveaway. A window to the soul.
When he comes in look over his shoulder like there's something behind his back you have an interest in.
So many memories...
God, you're a freak. What are you doing here? It's plain.
Love? No, you've lost your mind. That has to be it.
But, he say's he can't wait to see you, so everything is going be ok. God would have intervened if it wasn't ok.
A faint knock.
Don't answer it. Wait! Don't go. Go. No, wait.
Answer the door you idiot! He came all this way to see you.
He towers over her dominantly. Her knees go weak.
Don't chicken out now.
You're so beautiful, he says. Your hair is a little shorter, but you look the same.
She takes his hand. She's shaking inside. Does he feel it? She doesn't want him to think she's a little girl.
Shut up! You ARE a little girl!
Would you like a glass wine? she asks. Thinking she's in need of liquid courage.
Yes. Do you have a bottle opener?
Yes, I always come prepared.
Oh great, you found opportunity to mention what a real keen taskmaster you are.
Cut to the chase. You were soaked with the mere thought of him. Just let him take you down.
He sits down on the love sofa. In her mind she finds this hilarious. He's on the love sofa. She wonders why they are called that.
I mean seriously, how many people make love on a sofa? Hmm.
How long can you stay? She asks.
About 2 hours.
Oh no, she thinks. We don' have much time. She wonders how they can absorb each other in a mere two hours.
Let's go lie down, he says. I want to look at you.
You promised that you wouldn't force me into anything, she says.
I wont, he says.
Against her own advice she starts to look into his eyes. Oh God, they're green. Look away. You always were a sucker for green eyes. They'll bewitch you...Fill you with regret.
I remember you from the last time I saw you, he says.
Really? When was that? she asks.
I'm not sure. It was in the Ratz Keller, I think. I may have been drinking. I may have been dreaming.
Oh. she says, her voice trailing off. I don't remember, I'm sorry.
From out of nowhere…I want you to stroke me. Would you like to do that? The bulge in his jeans huge.
So many memories...
Frightened, she looks at her watch. Do you know that it's midnight? Their time together had evaporated.
Really? he says. I have to go.
I wish you didn't have to, she says.
Call me ok? She asks vulnerably.
Sure. What's your name and number?
Written by Sara Fielder © 2012
poem by Sara Fielder
Added by Poetry Lover
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