My apologies to Mons for burying her recent contribution to the writer’s block forum under a welter of posts the last two days. Here it is again in case you missed it. I always have an immediate affinity with Mon’s writing because it has that blend of style, believability and of course déjà vu, that stirs up your own long forgotten memories bringing everything to life and allowing your emotions to engage…….
When Your Lover has Gone
I cooked for her and waited for her to come home. I busied myself, basting and seasoning, steaming vegetables. I opened a bottle of chilled Sauvignon, her favourite, and left it open in the ‘fridge. Two glasses were placed on the table next to our place settings. It had to be perfect.
I showered and changed. It’s all in the detail, isn’t it? Which earrings, which underwear, which necklace? Of course I chose the silver. Silver is her metal, warm and soft. I dried and brushed my hair, imagining her holding the brush, her stroking me.
Her key clicked in the lock and I went to meet her, kissed her, embraced her. We nuzzled then she went upstairs and I listened to the shower, to her movements. I poured the wine and waited for her. She came down smelling clean and looking warm from the shower, the grime of the city gone from her. We kissed again.
But it was there, in the corner, that suitcase. The suitcase I hated. I hated it more than anything.
We ate, we drank and we chatted and she could sense the sadness in me. She touched me, praised my cooking, praised my clothes. We left the table and moved to the sitting room. With her long cool fingers she slowly undressed me. Her body, naked now against mine, moved and caressed me. Our mouths played together, our hands roamed freely and increasingly wantonly. Our every move was charged. She lay upon the chaise and opened herself to me as I knelt on the floor. Her cry was muted, subtle but I knew it came from my mouth as well as hers. We lay there, side by side, our legs entwined and we worked our hips until my cry came from her.
I lay on that chaise and watched her dress, collect her suitcase, blow me a kiss from the door and as it closed behind her, I cried.
by Monica 26 Aug 2011
5 comments:
Had me reaching for the tissues too. For me it just doesn't get anymore 'real'
I posted Mons story early because she has never participated in our DWR intiative before. I didn't want you to miss that in the event you could not be here by the time the rest of our entries come in. No worries about it getting buried, I will repost hers with everyone elses once they're completed.
No need to apolgise, Lady S but thank you
Oh my, yes a very lovely prose which we all can relate to at one time or another.
Well done. captured my emotions Mons.
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