Night. She knows.

He picked her up. It was 8, on the dot. She was pretty, he was chiselled. She waited.

She has no emotions. He wants her. She wore black, she was in mourning. Closure to the past. He wore a smile. She glared.

Her stilettos clung to her ankles, she adjusted. She was not sure of this. He knew. She laughed, plastic. His eyes creased, genuine. He reeked of Calvin Klein, she was intoxicated. She got into his car, he belted. He helped her belt. He spoke, she listened. She wasn’t sure, he continued. She was lost in her thoughts, she wasn’t sure if this was where she wanted to be. He distracted her, she liked it. She yearned for him.

They arrive. He pulls her chair for her, she sits. He sits. They order champagne, he’s celebrating. She’s not. It isn’t her time yet. It starts to drizzle, she is suffocated. He offers his hand, she gets up. He holds her elbow as they exit. She is free.

He is gentle, she detached. He talks to her, she let’s go. Seductively removes her shoes, tucks them in. Feels the dampness between her toes. She knows. He is away.

She wants him. Now. She grabs his hand, rigidly. Takes him into the rain with her. The child within her is here. He ignores. She wants to play. He is too rigid. She lifts her face to the skies, catching the raindrops on her face. Her eyes, her nose, her forehead, her hair. She is a Goddess. He, a mortal.

They head back to the champagne. It’s time, she knows. They converse. She is far from him, he is intent. He stares into her depths. Wonders where she is. He offers his hand, she takes it. He lifts her gently, they caress. She knows.

They stop. It’s past midnight, her painted nails shine. He lifts her into her chariot. She is at ease, relaxed. He is in love. The blues serenade their drive.

He slows down outside. Steps outside, opens her door. She gets out, diva. She smiles. He leans in. Kisses her softly. She wants more. She wants to die. They move away.

He drives away. She puts her key into the door. Silently, she clambers up to their bedroom, she smiles. She dresses down, puts her shoes away. She gets into bed, sees his angelic face in the darkness. Kisses his forehead.

She can’t sleep. The other is in her head. She goes down to the living room. She opens the bottle of chilled champagne. She sips.

She celebrates.

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9 thoughts on “Night. She knows.

  1. Checked your blog after exchanging a twitter msg with you.
    Glad I did.
    I can’t articulate what exactly I feel after reading your prose, but its beautiful. Made me smile!

    Cheers,
    Amit

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