Sometimes

Sometimes.

It was near dawn when she saw him that night. She hadn't looked to see him since her mind was restlessly engaged in the day-to-day pre-occupations that seemed to fill her every living moment at that time. She was staring out of the window at the water pooled on the cobbled streets, wondering when the next rainstorm would rattle against the thin pane of glass that separated her writing desk from the outside world.

'I wish I could talk to you right now,' she murmured and sat forward at her desk, resting her face in her folded arms. She felt empty and uncertain, trying to work out whether he would allow her even this or whether he would tell her, that by murmuring her longings out loud, she was speaking to him after a fashion.

'I just want to hear your voice,' she sighed, wishing that he were there to cup her face in his hand. 'I do need you and I hope you know that.'

She knew that he knew. She was not insecure about him or his feelings, but still she worried. She worried that she might raise his ire without any intention of doing so. She worried that it would be too long before he kissed her hand again and told her to her face that she was simply glorious. She worried that he would not see all the love that she had for him in her eyes. She worried that he did not know that if things were different, he would be her world and she would be his wonderful companion. And so she sat there, observing the darkness where she hid her head, waiting silently for the rain to resume, for the storm to continue and for her restlessness to abate.

She didn't mind his dalliances, even the ones that he denied. She didn't mind that he pretended not to know what she meant, just so that he could still protest his innocence without worrying that he would not always keep her heart swimming. She just wanted to stay awake a little longer to let normality drain away so that her mind was free: free to keep dreaming and repeating each wonderful dream bringing herself back with trembling lips to the love that could be waiting here for her.

'Sometimes I think too much. I really should spend more time doing,' she muttered determinedly, eventually deciding that she couldn't sit there any longer. She would slip into the blue strapless darkness of her most beautiful dress. She wanted to change in the middle of the night in the hope that that special invitation to the dance would still arrive for her to open with trembling hands. She wanted the gloved excitement and the whispered imaginings and the spreading of that smile, soft and muted at first, but widening slowly as she crossed the room to strip off her everyday clothes and dress into the realm of fantasy.

Antique lace and turquoise satin shorts and a matching brassiere would be lovely: simple and yet delicate lingerie to impress him. And the shoes – what shoes should she choose – something delicate and fine for him to admire or something more robust that would mean he could carry her around the dance for ever. Yes – beautiful wedge shoes – a round toe with a chunky heel – perfect and irresistible – just how she wanted to be for him.

She was almost ready for him now even if he never came. It did not matter, she would still sit down at her dressing table and make herself up so carefully and so creatively: a blush, a hint of scent, a touch of mascara and a wash of eau de toilette. She would sprinkle it liberally like some beautiful waterfall adorning her with its spray, before reality intruded again.

But there it was again with the thought of washes and sprinkles and water, reality! It broke into her reverie and caused her to look up and stare towards the sky, trying to make out in the half-light what type of rain the next day would be filled with. Her face fell at the thought and then despite her disappointment at the inclement weather she found herself smiling broadly, having realised that there he was in the darkness outside. It was strange that he had chosen to settle on a bough at the bottom of the little park that her house abutted.

She stood up and wiped the mist away from the windowpane, trying to make sure that it really was him. She wondered what he was doing in the town and why on earth he had chosen that thick branch to rest on, when he could so easily have knocked at her door and been ushered into the warmth.

Donning a cape to guard against the chill pre-dawn air, she forgot about the finery she was wearing and slid out of the house, clipping her keys to the little velvet band around her neck. She gasped as the cold lunged at her, swirling within her clothes and making her shiver. She was glad of the feeling despite the discomfort. It made her feel real again after all the pretences of the day and anxieties of the night.

In any case, it didn't take her long to make her way quietly across the street to bring her to him. She drew herself up and pressed her face against the gates to the little park, whispering a greeting that drew him from his thoughts and led him to sit up and swing his legs, so that he was sitting facing her.

'No rest for the wicked?' He asked.

She smiled ambiguously.

'No wicked for the rest then?'

'No, it's all for you sir.'

'I was hoping you would say something like that,' he leered down at her.

She giggled.

'No giggling after midnight,' he frowned. 'You will disturb the nightjars.'

'Yes, sir,' she smiled again. 'Tell me why do you dally here so late? I have never seen you in the city before.'

'You owe me a fuck - remember?'

'I couldn't sleep either,' she wouldn't let his dissonance perturb her, 'and yes, I do remember quite well. Did you come here to claim your due?'

'No, I came here to tell you that these cobbled streets seem to me the architecture of your ruin. Your face will take on their grey pallor if you stay here too long.'

'I only stand here because the gate is locked and because you do not knock at my door.'

'It would have been uncivil to call on you at such a late hour.'

'And it is not uncivil to draw me out onto the streets instead?'

'You came to me, girl.'

'You knew I would.'

'Yes. So, come to me now. The grass is so much softer that the cobbles.'

'Then I will not need these shoes.'

'Not once you leap over the gates that seems to inhibit you so.'

'Is there no way round this, sir?'

'I could open the gates to you.'

'Then do so, sir.'

'Alas, I have no key.'

'That's not much good then,' she said, squeezing the iron bars of the gate in her frustration.

'Do you look for goodness in me, girl?'

'No, but even scoundrels have manners, supposedly.'

'Take off your cape, please.'

'As you wish sir.'

She slipped her arms out of the sleeves and pulled the garment off, holding it out to him in her arms.

'And the dress. Let us give the police a mystery to solve.'

'Do you intend to murder me, sir?' She inquired passively as she stepped out of the gown, leaving it in a silken puddle of fabric on the ground.

'No, I intend you to come to me as I intended you to.'

'Naked?'

'Near as.'

'Then you will never see mud on my shoes again.'

'You can accommodate my desires barefoot. Fancy footwear has no place where we are going.'

'Does it not?'

'Bare feet suit your status. You do not need footwear to fraternize and fuck to your heart's content.'

'I will still miss them, sir.'

'And yet you will still leave them.'

She nodded sadly. She loved her shoes though she was not sure why. Since she had known him, she hadn't worn them as much as she had in the past and yet they still held out an aura of civilisation that she desired.

'Shall we burn all your shoes and let woods grow up on the ashes?'

'I doubt that would be possible, sir, even with my collection of shoes.'

'A bonsai wood then?'

She smiled thinly and reached behind her one foot at a time to shed the footwear.

'The pavement is cold and I feel conspicuous in my underwear.'

'Take off your underwear and I will carry you to somewhere where you can be even more conspicuous and less hesitant in your attendance upon my whims. Nice shorts by the way.'

'Thank you for noticing, sir,' she smiled. 'Would you make love to me among the ashes of my shoes?'

'Would you have me encourage your delinquency among the destroyed decadence of once desired clothing?'

'I still desire it, sir.' She stamped her foot petulantly

'Then I will make love to you by a waterfall far, far away from here.'

'That would be lovely, sir,' she smiled and remembered the way the eau de toilette had been so reminiscent of falling water such a short while before.

'Since the sound drowns out your shrieks.'

'Must you steal all my delight, sir?'

'No, I would share it. And you know that is true.'

'I know it is true that I love waterfalls,' she nodded gently.

'It is true that you will crouch down and watch the one across the water, while I take you as I intended.'

She shivered and hugged her naked shoulders, crushing her breasts against her rib cage.

'If you are lucky you will see trout leaping up in their joy as you press back and surrender in yours.'

'Will they sir?' She gasped lightly.

'They will once you take off that fashionable brassiere, girl.'

She looked up at him, feeling put out by his salacious reply, but said nothing, other than to lift up one bare foot and then the other, trying to stop them becoming numb with the cold.

'I dream a waterfall and you sense a grey cobbled street,' he growled, jumping down from the bough and staring at her huddled form on the rain-washed sidewalk.

'I sense the chill ground, sir, and the impending approach of a law enforcement officer.'

'If you crouched down, he may pass you by. Do it. Do it for me.'

'Yes sir,' she said bleakly, wondering where this was leading, hearing his voice, pushing her down so that her hands rested on the wet stones, where the water still lapped after the rain. Each cobble was wet and rounded, like the curves of a soft feminine form, beautiful and yet elusive in their beauty. Some of them had been prized loose by the daytime traffic and sat in the gutter as unwanted debris. Is that how he felt about her, she wondered. Was he so disappointed after taking her up that he would discard her like debris - too dull and unresponsive? Would he remember that somehow it once offered so much promise until he compromised her existence by taking her from the place where she belonged? An overwhelming sense of sadness flowed through her as if all the worries of the world had just landed on her shoulders.

It all seemed so puzzling and so insurmountable until he reached down to take her hand and lever her up. He hauled her in against him to hug her and wrap her in his jacket, solicitude taking the place of degradation. She gulped down a sob and let him lead her to a bench a hundred or so yards away from the gates.

They sat there reaching across to haul you in against me to hug you and sit here side-by-side, thoughtful and contemplative, watching as a policeman poked around at her discarded clothes with his nightstick. She suppressed a giggle as the man scratched his head, puzzled by the scattering of fine garments.

'That's better. We have no need of sadness,' he murmured pulling the jacket off his shoulders and wrapping it fully around hers. 'We may have need of haste though when he spies us over here.'

'What about my clothes?' she frowned, standing up.

'Don't worry about them. Mere fripperies. Stand by my side and just spend a tranquil moment, before we have to scoot.'

'That doesn't sound very dignified, sir. And those clothes have meaning to me.'

'It isn't dignified, but needs must and meanings can be rewritten. I may not even be able to stop to make you smile again, pressed as I am to evade the vagaries of the law.'

'I thought the law was fairly precise about indecent exposure, sir?'

'How can anyone regard your toes touching the wet sidewalk as indecent?'

'I think I am more concerned about my toes than the law, sir. The law may share your interest in other parts of my body though.'

'The law is an ass.'

'And you love my ass, sir. It is all perspective.'

'I do, harsh disciplinarian that I am,' he grinned at her and they quieted for a while, watching the officer walking around the clothing and then picking up one garment at a time.

'I'm not sure that he should be disturbing a scene of crime like that.'

'I'm not sure he should be tugging the elastic of your rather fetching shorts like that.'

'Perhaps he thinks they are satin boxers, sir.'

'Perhaps he thinks your dress is de rigueur for the well dressed officer of the law.'

'I do hope not. He will tear it and do irreparable harm to my shoes if he tries them on,' she moaned quietly as he hid her eyes behind the palms of his hands theatrically.

'It is no joke, sir.'

'No, I think it's a felony. Perhaps we should go back to your apartment so that you can rebuke his superiors harshly for his misdemeanours, so much so that they cannot stand it and give you enormous sums in compensation?'

'I think we would do well to go back to my apartment, sir, where you can be so very harsh that I won't be able to stand it.'

'It's fortunate that you have such good ideas.'

'Yes sir, it is.'

'And it's fortunate that you keep your keys on your collar, you clever girl.'

'Your clever girl, sir.'

'And it's fortunate that I appreciate my clever girl straddling my lap.'

'So, you can take me, when the mood takes you?'

'Let's go find the mood before the moody officer takes us in, pet. I will not fuck you so appreciatively in a cell.'

'It is true that there are more chairs to choose from and the music is better in my apartment,' she grinned and they stood up together, sidling down the street and slipping into the safety of her home.

'You would hate it, were I more conventional, pet,' he laughed, closing the door firmly behind them and pulling away his jacket from her shoulders, so that she stood naked before him.

'It would be more comfortable though. For a moment back there, I thought you would offer me to the officer.'

'Property is nine tenths of the law, pet and you are my property.'

'So?'

'I could not decide which tenth I did not own and thus which tenth I could not offer.'

'Sometimes, sir, you think too much.'

'Sometimes, girl, that is a fortunate trait,' he responded cleverly, resting his hand thoughtfully on her bum. 'You know what, girl?'

'What sir?'

'I could get quite used to fucking you.'

'So could I,' she giggled, 'but next time can you choose a warmer place to disrobe me.'

'Ah, location, location, location.'

'No sir; it's called common sense.'

'Touché, but I do so enjoy your sweet surrenders.'

'Then why don't you use them to the extent I would have you use them, sir?' She queried. Was it that he was uncertain about her psyche? Was it that he was trying to discover each element in her make up piece by piece and then to try to figure out the jigsaw that she was? 'Or don't you know me well enough for that?'

'You, enigma, you.'

She giggled lightly under her breath

'Good girl: the nightjars will be appreciative of your concern for their welfare.'

'And the transvestite officers of the law too?'

'The quality of their mercy is not strained by the fact that we now have glazing to protect your goose bumps and to save the sensitivities of the night fauna, when finally, I take you.'

'Ah finally...'

Yes, finally,' he smiled pulling her down over his lap and slapping her backside hard. 'And don't you forget to thank me like the good girl for it.'

'Thank you, sir: forgive my lack of manners.'

'Forgiven already. Let us dream impossible dreams together.'

'I thought we were going to fuck, sir.'

'Whatever happened to romance?'

'It was fatally injured when you gave away my garments to that perverted policeman.'

'You look so sweet when you are cross that I could eat you.'

'Metaphorically or sexually speaking?'

Do you prefer metaphorically or sexually speaking?'

'Both'

'Greedy!'

'Terrible girl'

'Sometimes I am,' she murmured and tugged at his clothing, drawing him down on top of her naked body. 'And sometimes, I just want to live happily ever after.'