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In the Window

 

Iím looking out the window. The sill is pressing into my stomach but I ignore it as I try to focus on the stars through the streetlights. Iíd turned the lights off a long time ago. In the darkness I try to see the stars and find peace.

When she moves up behind me, I can clearly see her outline in the glass. I vaguely wonder how a clear glass window could make such a perfect mirror when the light, or in this case lack of light, is just right.

She doesnít say a word. I can hear her breath coming steady and sure, the heat of it searing my bare shoulder as she stands so quietly behind me. I ignore her. I stare at the stars as if my life depends on it.

Itís so quiet. Her breathing is loud in the silence as she simply stands behind me, waiting. Iím looking at the stars, not the outline of her face in the glass. I can see the twinkling lights above, not the calm patience in her eyes. Iím not going to cry.

She leans forward. Her hands on either side of me on the glass. I lean forward with her so she isnít touching me. Her body surrounds me, but I donít notice. Iím too busy watching the stars.

She shifts a little to adjust her balance. I feel her breasts brush against my back. There must be a draft because I shudder. One hand leaves the window as she reaches to brush my long hair away from my neck. She caresses my throat softly. The stars twinkle merrily outside, making me sigh.

After a breathless eternity her hand moves away and down, snaking around me to rest splayed across my stomach. She nuzzles her face into that space between neck and shoulder. The sheer beauty of the night sky forces a tear from my eyes.

She kisses my neck. Her tongue flicks out. Another tear falls. Iím watching the stars, not her eyes burning into me as she makes love to my neck.

"I hate you." I whisper.

"Itís only for a few months." she answers softly into my ear. Her breath is hot as her tongue traces the shell of my ear. I wonít see her eyes in the glass, only the stars.

"I hate you." I whisper again, softer.

"I need this job and the experience that goes with it." Her teeth graze my neck. Her hand on my stomach tenses, pulls me closer. I want to see the stars, not her eyes as she patiently waits.

"I hate you." Louder, but she still wonít understand. Her breasts press more firmly into my back as she leans forward. I bring my hand up beside hers on the glass for balance.

"Iíll be home most weekends." She nuzzles into my neck again. I stare at our hands. So alike and so different. Her hand is slightly larger, stronger. Stronger than I will ever be.

"I hate you." Her hand moves from my stomach to cup my breast. She shifts and once again I can see that calm sure look in the glass.

"I love you." she whispers back.

"Donít go." Broken. A plea. My tears fall unchecked.

"Come with me." Now both hands are on my body. Her mouth devours my neck while her hands soothe and arouse at the same time.

"I love you." I gasp. Our bed is a few feet away. Tomorrow we will talk. Tonight there is no room for words.

She turns me around and I see her eyes. Her patience and her strength. I see the depths of her soul, not the pale copy that is her reflection on imperfect glass. Tonight she is mine and tomorrow I will follow her wherever she chooses to go.

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