Eric AhernSawyer 

                                                                                                                                            

                                                           

He grabs her suppressing his unquenchable lust and gives but a childish peck upon her soft brown lips.  At first her mouth creases up as if angered by this paltry move.  Quickly the flowing waves of her lips relax the hearts of her eyes move like rolling mocha oceans.  Suddenly she is stilled her eyes now silent yet they cannot suppress a smirk.  Without hesitation, she bites him, nipping at the top of his lip.  Releasing her body she falls into him, she bites him again this time stopping to kiss the tip of his tongue.  Now he hopes this will finally be the night but as soon as the thought crosses his mind, she presses up to his forehead and plants a kiss between his chestnut eyebrows.  Silently stands, and slowly she disappears into the night.

The next day he is quietly pleading for his wife to see his lovers mark, but he knows she would never look, or even care.  All through the tedium of work, he hopes one of his colleagues will venture to his cubicle and see passions tattoo upon his forehead, but they see him only as another drone, a purpose without a soul.

Driving that beat up old brown Chevy sedan, the rain frowning on his drive, he decides he will talk to his wife, end their long stead silence.  Welling up with the hope of hearing her speak, he walks slowly from his junked car to the porch.  He holds his cheap briefcase over his head as if to block any rude raindrops from tarnishing his looks.  When he opens the door, he wears his hope on his sleeve, wishing to see her smile.  The moment he sees her she is pointing with that long sinewy brown arm at a huge pile of grungy food encrusted dishes rotting away in the sink.  She is scowling at him her lips squished into an angry curl.  All his happiness has disappeared, he looks to her, then to his pile of broken promises.  He can't take it now.  He turns and pulls the front door closed behind him as he exists.

He is there at the appointed place at the appointed time.  He has prepped the grove of hibernating Hazelnut trees.  Placing a single white pillar candle where the branches flay from the trunk of every tree for an acre.  The light casts broken shadows everywhere.

She appears in that see through flower print dress he has always loved her in.  She runs her hand through his long chestnut hair.  She initiates tonight, kissing him softly. She grabs him by the waist pulling him on top of her as they fall to the ground, landing perfectly.  He begins to kiss her back, to tell her of his need.  Off in the distance a car alarm blares.  Suddenly the image of his wife disappears and he is jolted to reality.  He sees as usual she is rolled up on her corner of the bed as far from him as possible, and as always she has stolen all the blankets.  Looking at her, he realizes she will never love him; he is nothing to her but a way to pay the bills.  She is his only mistress and yet he can never have her.  Now he looks up at the alarm 3:03AM. Perhaps I can get one more kiss before work, he thinks. Closes his eyes, and tries to imagine what on Earth is worth waking for.