Page 52 of Goode Vibrations

Fierce blue eyes, going soft with affection as he saw me.

He tugged the blanket out from under me, covered me with it. Lay down under the blankets beside me. We were both unsure of what was next.

I wasn’t a cuddler after sex, and I felt like he wasn’t normally, either.

I twisted my head the other way; still unable and unwilling to move any more than was necessary. Stared at him.

Words failed us both.

My eyes fluttered. He was within reach; close enough I felt his body heat warming us under the blanket. On his back, next to me, head to one side.

I was a stomach sleeper, and so I let myself float.

My eyes flickered open, briefly, partially, and he had one hand across his chest, the other down his side, near mine.

Another floating drifting in the warm darkness of near-sleep. Another flutter of my eyes, but this time I saw nothing. Too dark. But I felt him.

I felt his hand in mine.

I didn’t withdraw mine. His hand in mine was a strange comfort in this drowsing dark of unfamiliar comfort, this blissful sleep of absolute safety and absolute satiety.

I’ve never, ever, not once, finished sex and felt utterly sated. I always felt like there was something missing. Like I hadn’t come all the way. Or not enough. Or, that I hadn’t gotten enough of him, or that there wasn’t enough of him to fill me, to complete me.

I was so used to that feeling that this, this satiated existential physical wonder…it was too much.

Unfamiliar.

Frightening.

But only frightening—and indeed, more truly termed terrifying—because now I would never feel sated again.

Sex would never be the same.

Fucking would never be the same.

Orgasms, touch, kisses, none of it would ever be the same, now that I knew what this felt like.

10

Errol

Iwoke to near darkness.

Aware of her.

Aware that I was aching with renewed and intensified need for her.

On my side, facing her, hearing her slumber, soft girlish snores.

She was still on her stomach, and I didn’t think she’d moved.

I drowsed back under.

Woke again,later. Achingly hard.

Dull reddish-orange light streaming like a knife through the darkness from between an inch-wide crack in the curtains. Felt her against my body. Couldn’t help but hold. Reached, filled my hands with soft curves.

She murmured in her sleep.