think I’m strong enough to do it any other way than to sneak out.
Xxx Iris.
NOW
When Paul lets his hand sink, there is a noticeable pause. He is still standing by his car, and I am not moving. Moving feels dangerous and yet, my heart is slamming in my chest so hard it blurs my vision. Finally, it is he who stirs—with every step he takes towards me, his image clears, he grows larger and larger and so does that stupid hopeful balloon in my chest.
He’s wearing a woolen, old hat and it makes him look like some fisherman on shore leave. It doesn’t go with the slippers or the pajama pants, even if they are of the very masculine variety. Checkers. I want to smile and it tugs at the corners of my mouth so hard I have to physically restrain myself.
When he comes to a halt a few feet in front of me, he looks straight at me; he doesn’t say a word. My throat closes up but I manage to breathe through my nose. The air doesn’t quite seem to supply my body with oxygen though, not the way it is supposed to—because I still feel dizzy and caught up in that sudden vertigo.
“I was afraid I’d miss the train,” he says after a while, his voice warm, soft. There is something about that voice in open air that robs it of the power it held in an enclosed space, but it still shoots through me.
“It’s still twenty minutes,” I whisper and he takes a step closer. It might be my imagination, but I am sure I can feel the warmth radiating from inside his jacket all the way against my chest and face.
“You left.”
“I did.”
His hand twitches but he forces it back into that casual stillness.
“You were right,” he finally says and I look up; my surprise makes him chuckle. “In your letter, you were right.”
He stops there and when the silence persists, I wrap my arms around myself; it’s getting cold again. I’m not sure I want to be right or what to make of his confession but he doesn’t initiate any touch and so I can’t quite do it either.
“I must have sounded like a hypocrite to you.”
This time, I shake my head immediately. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. And that’s not my place to judge, Paul. I hardly know you—and that, that would be awfully full of myself, wouldn’t it?”
“How so?”
“You know? Seeing hypocrisy or any other kind of issues when all you... well, let’s just say, I’m not naive enough to think that every one night stand has to lead to something longer even if...”
“Even if?” I wish he’d just stop asking me these questions. I am blushing, my hair is blowing in the wind.
“Even if one of the... participants might want that.”
Our eyes lock and finally, he reaches out. His fingers brush over my chin and my eyes flutter shut.
“Is that what you want?” he asks and this time, standing closer, the wind doesn’t have a chance to blow the strong bass out of his voice. It travels through my body right down to my core.
“I don’t know,” I admit and when I blink, he brushes his thumb over my lips.
“I should tell you, I am not generally known to be a good boyfriend. I get broody, or obsessed with my work. I like to be alone for long stretches at a time and I am terribly set in my ways, here by the sea with my woodwork and writing.”
I expel a hard breath.
“Did I say I wanted to be your girlfriend?” I whisper and this time I get to smile at the momentary surprise that washes over his face. “We don’t even know each other. Not really. I just… I liked being with you.”
“And I liked being with you .”
My heart jumps all the way up into my throat and into the glimmer in my eyes and with half a step I am leaning against his chest, my neck at an extreme angle to look up at him.
“We could... date.” I can feel the muscles in my cheeks pull at my lips until I am grinning up at him. It feels like a silly proposition after that ocean of intimacy of the night before. “Do people into BDSM date?”
Paul chuckles and
Xxx Iris.
NOW
When Paul lets his hand sink, there is a noticeable pause. He is still standing by his car, and I am not moving. Moving feels dangerous and yet, my heart is slamming in my chest so hard it blurs my vision. Finally, it is he who stirs—with every step he takes towards me, his image clears, he grows larger and larger and so does that stupid hopeful balloon in my chest.
He’s wearing a woolen, old hat and it makes him look like some fisherman on shore leave. It doesn’t go with the slippers or the pajama pants, even if they are of the very masculine variety. Checkers. I want to smile and it tugs at the corners of my mouth so hard I have to physically restrain myself.
When he comes to a halt a few feet in front of me, he looks straight at me; he doesn’t say a word. My throat closes up but I manage to breathe through my nose. The air doesn’t quite seem to supply my body with oxygen though, not the way it is supposed to—because I still feel dizzy and caught up in that sudden vertigo.
“I was afraid I’d miss the train,” he says after a while, his voice warm, soft. There is something about that voice in open air that robs it of the power it held in an enclosed space, but it still shoots through me.
“It’s still twenty minutes,” I whisper and he takes a step closer. It might be my imagination, but I am sure I can feel the warmth radiating from inside his jacket all the way against my chest and face.
“You left.”
“I did.”
His hand twitches but he forces it back into that casual stillness.
“You were right,” he finally says and I look up; my surprise makes him chuckle. “In your letter, you were right.”
He stops there and when the silence persists, I wrap my arms around myself; it’s getting cold again. I’m not sure I want to be right or what to make of his confession but he doesn’t initiate any touch and so I can’t quite do it either.
“I must have sounded like a hypocrite to you.”
This time, I shake my head immediately. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. And that’s not my place to judge, Paul. I hardly know you—and that, that would be awfully full of myself, wouldn’t it?”
“How so?”
“You know? Seeing hypocrisy or any other kind of issues when all you... well, let’s just say, I’m not naive enough to think that every one night stand has to lead to something longer even if...”
“Even if?” I wish he’d just stop asking me these questions. I am blushing, my hair is blowing in the wind.
“Even if one of the... participants might want that.”
Our eyes lock and finally, he reaches out. His fingers brush over my chin and my eyes flutter shut.
“Is that what you want?” he asks and this time, standing closer, the wind doesn’t have a chance to blow the strong bass out of his voice. It travels through my body right down to my core.
“I don’t know,” I admit and when I blink, he brushes his thumb over my lips.
“I should tell you, I am not generally known to be a good boyfriend. I get broody, or obsessed with my work. I like to be alone for long stretches at a time and I am terribly set in my ways, here by the sea with my woodwork and writing.”
I expel a hard breath.
“Did I say I wanted to be your girlfriend?” I whisper and this time I get to smile at the momentary surprise that washes over his face. “We don’t even know each other. Not really. I just… I liked being with you.”
“And I liked being with you .”
My heart jumps all the way up into my throat and into the glimmer in my eyes and with half a step I am leaning against his chest, my neck at an extreme angle to look up at him.
“We could... date.” I can feel the muscles in my cheeks pull at my lips until I am grinning up at him. It feels like a silly proposition after that ocean of intimacy of the night before. “Do people into BDSM date?”
Paul chuckles and
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