1. Post Coital

“All right, you got me,” she said.

He pushed up and withdrew.

“I did?”

“Oh yeah, you got me.”

She breathed deeply. Sorrel hair lay beneath her like tangled feathers. One strand hooked her chin, stroking her flushed cheeks as she breathed out and in.

“How was it?”

She chuckled.

“Good, very good.”

He lay beside her and watched her breasts push up and come down, push up and come push and come. A bead of sweat rolled through the valley of her breasts, down her skin into the wicking hairs of her abdomen.

“What’re you doing?” she asked.

He glanced at the clock on her nightstand.

“Nothing.”

He bent down and kissed the rim of her navel. She wet her lips with an incarnadine tongue. He pulled himself onto all fours above her and touched her lips with his. Her breath tickled his chin. Their chests pressed together and he counted her breaths, and breathed in syncopation to her respiration. She grinned.

“Stop breathing for me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

She opened her eyes. Hazel irises spiraled around the coals of her pupils. Her smile scrunched her petite nose. White teeth rested on her lower lip. And that one strand of hair, that sorrel feather, still hooked around her tawny chin. He lifted a hand and touched her blush and brushed the feather back behind her diminutive ear.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he said.

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” he said.

Her eyes darkened.

“Liar,” she whispered.

He leaned down and kissed her. She opened up, warmly inviting, and embraced him. Their skin was slick and he felt himself sliding on their porous suffusion. He chuckled. She pushed him back.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“It’s something.”

“I was just thinking of how sweaty you are.”

She simpered.

“It’s not all me,” she said.

He smirked.

“Oh yeah?”

She looked at him and grinned.

“Yeah, you’re the sweaty pig.”

“Oof, that hurts.”

He lay beside her. Her hazel eyes gazed between sorrel feathers.

“Stop staring,” he said.

“Bastard.”

“I love you.”

“I wonder.”

She looked away. The window above them rattled with wind. He sat up and looked out between the blinds. The streetlights rocked and illuminated the alley with shadows dancing. A raindrop tapped the glass. It streaked down the window, absorbing the street lights. He reached over, rubbed his palm on her abdomen, and traced his fingers around her navel. Her supple skin lifted and lowered his hand with every breath. He bent down and kissed the taut rim and the knot of skin. She giggled and looked at him. He pushed up between the valley of her breasts and gently tapped her chest.

“Pitter patter.“

The rain came harder. Thunder shook the building.

“Pitter patter, patter patter.”