I'm just finishing the dishes when I hear the front door open. "Hey, Walter," I call.
"Hey," he calls back and ambles in to join me.
"Did you win?"
Grimacing a little, he shakes his head. "I need you to take up squash so I can end this losing streak. We could go tomorrow afternoon..." He trails off hopefully.
"Maybe next week." Or not. Squash is a little frantic for me. "Aren't you going to even say hello?"
He grins and comes over to me. My handful of suds is poised but he's too fast for me and I'm the one who ends up pinned against the counter with soap bubbles on his face. "Dammit, Walter, you're starting to catch on."
Letting me go, he backs out of harm's way. "Want some help?"
I swipe my sleeve across my face. "It's actually more hygienic if they air dry. I'm almost done."
"Okay." Hooking open the fridge, he pulls out a Coke. I hand him a glass. Far too civilised, if you ask me. He heads out to the living room.
The last plate takes far longer than I thought it would. Mozzarella must be the primary ingredient in Super Glue. Finally, I dry my hands and get a Coke for myself. In the can, as God intended. What tonight? A movie? A game? Try to talk Walter into going out for a change?
He's sitting on the couch and I stop just inside the room to take a good look at him. He must be tired -- his eyes are closed, his head resting back on a puffy cushion I crocheted myself when I was stir-crazy with mono in eleventh grade. He probably thinks it's another creation from my grandmother.
The lamps are low and his features are softened by the shadows. It's been a while since I really took a long look at him. I don't know why. He's all strong curves -- his smooth skull arcing into the planes of his face, pecs rounding into his chest, abs rippling like water when he moves.
Lucy jumps onto the couch and sits beside him, pressing up against his leg. Absently, he reaches out and strokes her. It's been a week since I last felt those hands on me that way and suddenly I miss them very much. His hands stroking my back, curling in my chest hair. His hands on my face and mine on his, holding on as we devour each other. His cheeks rasping a little on my palms, his mouth alive in breathless, open kisses.
My heart is beating faster now, remembering. Replaying the struggles, the rhythms, the dizzying release. The things unspoken in the dark. The warmth. The slow slide into sleep.
His eyes open and he smiles and I'm very nearly undone. Picking up his glass, he drinks before speaking. "What's the flick tonight?"
"No movie." I cross the room.
He stretches and Lucy jumps off the couch. "Death by Scrabble?" Another drink before he puts down the glass.
"No Scrabble." I set my Coke down on the coffee table, too hard, and it fizzes up a little. Climbing onto the couch, I straddle his hips, and take his face in my hands. "I thought we'd skip the foreplay tonight."
FINIS