A Cloudy Day

The sky is clouded, swollen grey clouds line the skies, like a wool shawl wrapped around the earth. It hugs the woods, warming the bare winter branches against the snow's cold touch as it falls from the sky. It's light and soft and it falls as if it doesn't exist, as if it didn't have any weight at all, and that's how I feel on this day, weightless and far away. Everything is muted to me, like I'm wrapped in a cocoon, one that muffles me against the sharp sounds of the city.

I try to keep this feeling, blocking out everything, just walking, but today my peace is disturbed, I cannot concentrate, for every time I close my eyes to savor the silence her laugh echoes across my mind. Her, the one with the pale skin the color of alabaster, lips the dark life color of blood, eyes the color of spring leaves frosted. I see her clearly in my mind and as I see her, so she appears standing before me. She leans against a white oak, her bright red coat buttoned to the throat with big round black buttons. She's smiles, looking past me, her eyes beckoning to someone in the distance.

I turn in time to see him emerge from the trees, a man, that man, his eyes dark and filled with wonder, his soul an incredible array of feelings. He steps forward, drawn to her, the only livid spot in a world of grey and white. He strides across the snow, and it crunches in protest beneath his boots. She laughs gaily, the sound a pure note of joy, and tilts her head to one side, studying him. He smiles and slowly reaches toward her, I feel as if the movement will never end, but eventually it does, and he places his hand on the front of her coat.

Smoothing his hand over the material, he guides his hand along her curves and his lips discover the softness of her mouth, she sighs and leans toward him. He undoes the black buttons one by one, and slips the coat off her shoulders and reveals her wonders to his eyes. As the material leaves her form one smooth button catches, and falls, landing gently in the snow at her feet. Her skin is wrapped in nothing but a thin white blouse and under her citrus colored skirt she shivers. She has always liked the cold. She says it makes her feel alive, makes her know she exists, because it lets her body do something she does not tell it to do.

His lips move along her neck and his fingers push the cold away from her waist. Slowly he reaches down to the hem of her skirt and his eyes ask for permission. She smiles and grants it, kissing him fiercely, his warm lips chasing the cold away from hers. He pulls at her skirt, the rough material sliding up her smooth legs revealing her warmth to the bitter cold. She revels in the sensation and soon his hands are running along her thighs, his fingertips leaving red marks against her pale flesh. She sighs and smiling he pulls her leg up, she wraps it around him and in one move, she feels his hard warmth against her, inside of her, stretching, generating sweet friction. She gasps in pleasure and he returns the gesture. She warps herself around him, and he in turn, presses her to him, his hands spanning her back, holding her to him, filling her.

Soon the act has reached a fevered pitch, and she spins away into her own world, floating in a sea of warm points of light. He follows her, his own warmth spilling from him, coating her insides. As soon as it had come, his warmth is gone replaced with a lingering spark fading against the seeping cold. He gently places her feet back on the ground, and her skirt slowly slides down her thighs. Tucking her into her coat he kisses her nose and smiling, walks away.

She has nothing let of him but the taste of his mouth, the spicy scent of his skin, and his warmth. Slowly she bends down, and picking up the black button, she tucks it into her pocket and walks away. The shivers running through her body still as she leaves the trees, the snow, the clouds behind. I smile and watch her go for I too, have left the clouded bare branches, and stepping back on to cold concrete into the rush of noise from the city, I cannot help but smile.