Thanks to a friend for the inspiration.
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Imagine every inch of your dream*
The persistent ringing of her telephone gradually pulled her out of a deep sleep. At first she snuggled deeper under the covers mumbling, "'S for you."
When she remembered that he was out of town she chuckled sleepily while reaching across 'his' side of the bed. She had already become used to having him there. She still thought that the phone was likely for him, but groped for the receiver anyway, if only to make the noise go away.
She grumbled something into the receiver without lifting her head from the pillow, then sat up when she recognized his voice. Confused, she glanced at her clock, groggily trying to calculate the hour where he was then wondering what had made him call so late at night. Before she could ask him, he murmured something, and apologized for waking her then disconnected.
She sat on the edge of the bed, wearing his T-shirt, and staring blankly at the receiver until the urgent recording reminded her that it was off the hook.
Had he said that he loved her? She woke up a bit more as she reviewed the conversation. She wasn't sure if he had really spoken the words or if it was just the remnant of some wish-filled dream.
Slightly chilled, she climbed back under the covers and concentrated on remembering what he had said. He'd apologized for calling so late, he'd explained that he'd been thinking of her and wanted to hear her voice. Then, while she laughed sleepily, he'd said that he loved her!
She buried her face in the extra pillow, the one that still smelled faintly of him. She would never have admitted how reluctant she was to wash his scent from that pillowcase. At least her clear memory and vivid imagination would still provide her with every detail of his stay. It would still sadden her to remove that last physical trace of him from her bed.
As she surrounded herself with his scent and her memories, she began to relive their lovemaking. Her hand traced a path down her throat to her breast. She felt the fullness through his shirt, and pretended that it was his beautiful hands caressing her. She imagined her face pressed against his neck instead of his pillow.
She slid her hands down her sides to the hem of his shirt. She slowly pulled it up just as he once had. Rolling onto her back she pulled the shirt off over her head before snuggling back under the blankets and allowing her hands to roam over her body again.
As he had, she spent a few moments caressing her breasts. Her nipples hardened, and she moaned softly at the memory of his mouth encircling them. She could almost feel his soft hair under her hands as she had pressed him against her heart.
She had almost said then that she loved him, but she had been afraid that it was too soon. Instead, she had proclaimed her love into his hair, so softly that there was so way that he could have heard. Now, she spoke aloud, needing to say the words even if he was too far away to hear them. If she had not been dreaming and he had really said what she'd thought, then she could allow herself to trust that he would come back.
She slid one hand over her stomach to the coarse-soft hair below her belly. She paused a moment, smiling. Once he had teasingly commented on how colour-coordinated she was. She cupped her vulva in her hand, imagining that his was adding to the warmth she already felt.
She remembered how he had groaned in pleasure and then frustration as she'd teased him with her lips and mouth, bringing him to the edge of an orgasm and then forcing him to retreat again and again.
He had knelt on the bed beside her, pleasing her with his hand while she had teased him with her mouth. When she concentrated she could almost taste and smell him.
He may have thought that had been something she had done for him, but she knew that it had been as much for herself. She loved to hear his voice change as his body responded to her.
She moved her legs apart allowing her fingers better access. She moved her fingers slowly back and forth in her moistness. She was still recalling his call - remembering how his voice had sounded on the phone. He had sounded like that when he'd made love to her. Why had she been too sleepy then to talk to him when she was wide awake now?
She groaned in frustration, rolling over onto her stomach to press her breasts against the mattress, trying to pretend that she was feeling the faint scratchiness of the hair on his chest instead of her own soft cotton sheets.
He was so far away and her own touch just wasn't the same.
With the practiced skill of a woman too much alone, she concentrated on her clitoris, relieving purely physical tension leaving her mind craving more.
Pressing her face against his shirt where it had ended up, wadded on top of his pillow, she eventually fell asleep, sobbing softly and indulging in a few moments of cursing the responsibilities that kept her here, alone.
May 26, 1998
No one said it had to be real,
But it's gotta be something you can reach out and feel now,
It ain't right, It ain't fair,
Castles fall in the sand and we fade in the air...*
*All lyrics from "Good Girls Go To Heaven (Bad Girls Go Everywhere)" By Jim Steinman, sung by Meat Loaf.