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Hag Dream

Jake

All evening there are little signals, little signs. As we wash the dishes at the sink, she stands close; her elbow touches mine. When I sweep the floor, she waits for me to finish, then takes the dustpan from me, our fingers brushing. When I pick up Cat for her from the sofa where she’s fallen asleep, she trails after me up the stairs and watches as I lay her down on her bed. She twitches the covers over her and flicks off the lamp beside the bed. Outside Cat’s room, we look at each other in the dark hallway for a moment.

I shouldn’t be surprised when she creeps into my room later and slides on top of me in the dark. The mattress dips as she slings her leg over me, straddling me, her hands on my chest pressing the breath out of me.

“Dodi?” I whisper. I’d been half asleep.

“Who else?”

I can smell her perfume and, underneath that, the smell of skin as her hair brushes my chest in the dark. My fingertips find her knees on either side of me.

“I thought I was having a hag dream.”

“Fuck you.” She laughs against my lips as she begins a kiss.

My breath catches in my chest, and I just lie there, afraid to breathe, afraid to move, afraid to fuck this up. She kisses me slowly, intensely, her soft inky-black hair spilling around us, her sharp nails digging into my skin through the fabric of my shirt. She drags her lips across mine one last time as I almost suffocate.

“I really hate you,” she whispers with a sharp smile. And because she lies to me, it’s easy to lie to myself. She hates me. This isn’t going to hurt her one bit.

The belt of her robe is cinched tight like the ribbon of a beautifully wrapped gift, and I take a chance and tug it loose. In retaliation she shoves my shirt up and over my head, and it’s such a relief—we’re doing this—it’s actually—

Her hand slithers down from my shoulder, across my torso, down my belly, and doesn’t stop until—

I bite my lip, but her lip’s in the way and I bite her by accident. She doesn’t mind. She comes back for more, and even though I feel like I’m smothering, I let her. Air is for chumps. I’m sinking into the mattress, stars behind my eyelids—