A La Recherche Du Temps Perdu

They held each other closely, eyes locked, kissing every so often to reaffirm that this was not just a fuck, was not going to be done and then forgotten. Both of them felt that invisible thread that had always run from one heart to the other tighten and strengthen as they reached the inevitable moment of climax.

Some part of themselves streamed out and met a reciprocal fragment of soul coming in to replace it and both faces were wet with tears as bodies shuddered and rocked, hungrily trying to consume each other.

They lay, entwined, their bodies still, their breath slowing; joined at the lips and at the hips. He grew soft inside her and still they didn't move; neither daring to break this connection just as neither had dared to initiate it.

The sweat on his back chilled his skin and her breathing was hindered by the weight of him on top of her and eventually the discomfort of it forced them to move apart. As soon as the contact between them broke, the thread of intimacy shattered and the connection was lost. They avoided each other's gaze as they dressed, moving with heavy limbs.

Eva went into the luxurious marble bathroom to smooth her hair and tidy her makeup while Andrew sat disconsolately on the bed. Life was so much harder to direct. He had no script and no idea what to do next. He waited for Eva to come out, waited for her to tell him what would happen next.

He knew what would happen next when he saw her face. It had lost the dreamy, post-coital glow and was drawn tight. What they had experienced was the brief flicker and flare of a love long since extinguished, there was nothing left for them to build a life upon.

She walked over to the bed and placed a gentle hand against his cheek which he leant into for a brief moment before she took it away and walked out of the room.

She pressed the button for the lift and waited quietly until it went 'bing,' then she walked in and watched the door swish shut. Only now could she let herself cry and her face crumpled as she fought back the sobs.

People turned to look at her as she got out of the lift in the foyer, but she was oblivious and stumbled past them to get out into the night air which cooled the tears on her cheeks until only sticky salt tracks were left. She looked left and right, waiting for a break in the traffic, then took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and stepped forwards.