Frozen Heat
She twisted the pen around in her teeth, her favorite way to focus, oral fixation. Hair loosely tossed up into a messy bun, she rolled over on her bed to look at the stars. She gazed right through the sky light and into the galaxies. It was 1:27 AM.
Making her way clumsily down the stairs, she scrambled to make a cup of joe. Caffeine is essential for late night activities. Wearing a simple white cotton tanktop with a pair of fish boxers she snatched on clearance at the Gap, to any girl she would seem typical, squeaky-clean and tired; to any guy, devistatingly sexy. A new habit she picked up was twirling. She twirled her keys, her pen, pencils, and now she was twirling the spoon around, watching the dark brown coffee swirl with the creamy white of half-and-half to make a nice, caramel brown. She inhaled the roast and made her way back up the stairs. It was a long night and looking to become even longer.
Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap.. tap. Her pen hit the tablet furiously, ideas floating around in her mind, the perfect sentence on the tip of her tongue - she couldn't expel her ideas. She was stuck. Resting her head on her crossed arms, stretched out on the bed, her body flexed in a cat-like movement.
Luckily, he had a key. He let himself in, still-as-night, light as a breeze. She should have noticed, with each step he breached, a creak gave off a warning signal. TIred as she was, she might as well have been deaf. Inch by inch he made his way to her room. He stood there, silently, watching her arms extend outwards, her calves thin out as her legs extended further and further. She let down her hair and tossed it around her head a few times. She should have noticed, with each movement she made, a slight gasp for air escaped his lungs.
She was captivating. He was captivated. Like a shadow, he crept along the edge of the wall, stopping when it appeared she was stirring.
She caught him by surprise, rolled over and stared straight into his eyes. "I've been waiting.. you're late". He made his way to her bed and as he sat, he evoked a rippling effect among the satin sheets. He smoothed her hair and laid her down gently on the bed. It was 1:37 A.M.
He held her body close to him. She was wet, a kind of sweat that can only come from intimate interaction. Her cheeks were flushed, her muscles weak; her body hit the mattress like jell-o on a hot sidewalk. A cold sweat came over her as she shuddered, aftershocks from the previous earthquake she had just experienced.
She rolled off of him like syrup on pancakes, lingering, slowly, dripping. She sighed a deep sigh of content. The open window let a nice, cool breeze in, making her skin taut and goosebumps amass her arms and legs. He noticed the bumpy texture and thought to himself, "There is only one way to fix this impenetrable cold.." It was 1:47 A.M.
Making her way clumsily down the stairs, she scrambled to make a cup of joe. Caffeine is essential for late night activities. Wearing a simple white cotton tanktop with a pair of fish boxers she snatched on clearance at the Gap, to any girl she would seem typical, squeaky-clean and tired; to any guy, devistatingly sexy. A new habit she picked up was twirling. She twirled her keys, her pen, pencils, and now she was twirling the spoon around, watching the dark brown coffee swirl with the creamy white of half-and-half to make a nice, caramel brown. She inhaled the roast and made her way back up the stairs. It was a long night and looking to become even longer.
Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap.. tap. Her pen hit the tablet furiously, ideas floating around in her mind, the perfect sentence on the tip of her tongue - she couldn't expel her ideas. She was stuck. Resting her head on her crossed arms, stretched out on the bed, her body flexed in a cat-like movement.
Luckily, he had a key. He let himself in, still-as-night, light as a breeze. She should have noticed, with each step he breached, a creak gave off a warning signal. TIred as she was, she might as well have been deaf. Inch by inch he made his way to her room. He stood there, silently, watching her arms extend outwards, her calves thin out as her legs extended further and further. She let down her hair and tossed it around her head a few times. She should have noticed, with each movement she made, a slight gasp for air escaped his lungs.
She was captivating. He was captivated. Like a shadow, he crept along the edge of the wall, stopping when it appeared she was stirring.
She caught him by surprise, rolled over and stared straight into his eyes. "I've been waiting.. you're late". He made his way to her bed and as he sat, he evoked a rippling effect among the satin sheets. He smoothed her hair and laid her down gently on the bed. It was 1:37 A.M.
He held her body close to him. She was wet, a kind of sweat that can only come from intimate interaction. Her cheeks were flushed, her muscles weak; her body hit the mattress like jell-o on a hot sidewalk. A cold sweat came over her as she shuddered, aftershocks from the previous earthquake she had just experienced.
She rolled off of him like syrup on pancakes, lingering, slowly, dripping. She sighed a deep sigh of content. The open window let a nice, cool breeze in, making her skin taut and goosebumps amass her arms and legs. He noticed the bumpy texture and thought to himself, "There is only one way to fix this impenetrable cold.." It was 1:47 A.M.