Sunday 28 February 2010

#Fridayflash - Dishes

 
I’m standing at the sink, my hands covered in suds, when she sneaks up behind me. She wraps her lithe arms around my middle and stands on her toes, resting her chin on my shoulder. I feel her lips nuzzle me there, and her hot breath penetrates my shirt like the heat from an open fire. Her long hair is loose around her face, and it tickles my ear.

“Thank you…” she whispers, genuinely, though her teeth are scraping playfully at the back of my neck. “For dinner…for tonight.” I smile and meet her soft eyes in the window over the sink. It’s dark outside, and it’s raining…and the glass is a mirror.

“What makes you think the night is over?” I ask her, trying hard to be suave as I attempt to arch one eyebrow and end up raising both. She laughs at me, like breaking glass, instantly mocking my feeble stab at ‘sexy’…and as she buries her face in my shoulder she isn’t even trying, but her act beats mine, hands down. My insides twist inexplicably, and I couldn’t love her more.

“Happy Anniversary…” she tells me, as I position a plate in the dish rack, watching the soap slide over its smooth surface, echoing the rain on the window. It slides too slowly, like the time this washing up is taking…

I wash a knife; a fork…and her hands push under my shirt, tucking themselves into my waistband as though they always ought to be there. She presses her fingers into the flesh of my stomach, and draws me back against her tantalising warmth, while I place the paired cutlery in the drainer. Her tongue runs itself, firm and wet, up the back of my neck, and I shudder. She wants my attention…and I no longer care if the dishes get done…

I draw my wet hands from the water and meet her wicked eyes in the black glass before me…then her hands are on mine, fingers interlacing before she draws the wetness back up my arms and spreads the suds across my skin.

I close my eyes as her damp fingers push themselves up the back of my neck, into my hair, and I can’t help but hold my breath when I turn to face her. She runs her thumbs over my cheekbones like she’s touching silk and barely rests her lips on mine as she breathes, instead of says, that she loves me.

And I want to tell her back…so I let my breath go…and I open my eyes…but of course, she’s gone.

Damn it. I really fucked up this time.

 
Sorry my #fridayflash was posted so late this week! Started a new job and been very busy. Promise to get back on schedule very soon. :)

17 comments:

  1. Intriguing. Is she a ghost, a memory, a fantasy? This is very well written and leaves just enough open to interpretation.

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  2. Intriguing, indeed. Nice descriptions. Late? It's still Saturday for me and it takes me several days to read everything. Just in time as far as I'm concerned.
    -David G Shrock

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  3. I've been there. Beautifully rendered.

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  4. Wow, this was heart-wrenching at the end. And, also quite hot. Excellent!

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  5. was this inspired by a certain post-Savage conversation we were having...?
    Like this muchly: "she isn’t even trying, but her act beats mine, hands down"

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  6. @mazzz_in_Leeds - Oh, maybe, partially...totally sub-conscious if it was though! Ha!

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  7. Shivers! Regret is a terrible thing. Very, very good, Amy. And doesn't the mind wander when doing the dishes? Like this a lot.
    Simon.

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  8. Heh, my first thought was she left because he stopped doing the dishes.

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  9. You've written such a beautiful, sensual piece about thoughts during...dishwashing! Just wonderful in it's depiction. I agree with Carrie, it IS hot.

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  10. Really nice story, Amy. The story WAS hot... and the ending was such a surprise.
    What did he DO????

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  11. As Marisa descibed...very sensual story. Must have cold shower now...

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  12. Wow, quite a sexy story. Until the end. Then it turned heartbreaking. Great story.

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  13. I agree - heartbreaking at the end.

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  14. A plate or 'the' plate placed in the rack...? Lonely dinner for one, idly fantasising - totally had me all the way it was really happening. Nice.

    marc nash

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  15. A heartbreaking end...I really felt sorry for him.

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  16. Very sensual. I could feel what he was feeling. In the end, he was filled with regret. He should have thought twice before he did whatever he did to make her leave.:-)
    Love this story!

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