Crazy Little Thing

by HelluvaGirl

She loved how easily things would fall into places when they were next to each other.

How she could actually fall asleep with him. Not just in the same bed but in his arms. And in the middle of the night, as she would move in her sleep, his first instinct was not to release her from his embrace but to pull her closer. And his shoulder never got tired from her head, or his arms never needed rest from holding her.

She would lean on his back from behind as he brushed his teeth in the bathroom, like they were in some tacky Instagram picture, only it didn’t feel tacky at all.

She loved how they would just slip into an embrace in the middle of a room. How slow and sensual his kisses were on her mouth and neck. How his and her fingers would join instantly as their hands touched.

Somehow, all those small acts of affection were resonating much deeper within her than any words of grandeur she’s heard or spoken before.

At some point, as he stayed after he was supposed to leave, she stopped feeling surprised or critical about how incidental, illogical and unbelievable their connection was. It was hardly supposed to even happen. But now it was her state of unquestioned happiness without rewinding the past or jumping to the future, without rationalising or keeping the distance. It seemed to her that time was flowing somewhere next to them and they were not affected by its continuous transforming spell. Is this what intimacy feels like?

The hours of passion… He was a natural with such an understated first impression that she hasn’t realised what she was in for. It’s not entirely about being better or worse in those affairs, she knew. It’s more about how much people want each other and afford the liberty to be who they are. Perhaps it was a combination of those factors that brought her to states which she made a choice to not even talk about, out of respect to the experience.

There was a certain darkness in him, she could sense all along. Later, as he spoke about it, she knew it was another reason why they intuitively related. She could also see why he enjoyed her company and in what way she was good for him. Not the best of reasons perhaps, but she didn’t mind. Among other things, it was due to the small timeframe they could experience each other like they did. Like there was no tomorrow. Because there wasn’t, really.

Tell me something. One of your sexual fantasies.

He laughed and said:

Well, there’s a photocopier.

Vanilla and a bit cliché, she thought, but he continued:

And then there are 20 copies of you. With me.

That’s when he had her. Long before he fixed his fingers on her neck till she could barely breathe, all tame and mellow.