| *HER* Holidaze I |
| He woke with a start. The dreams were getting worse. This time it seemed so real. He rubbed at his gritty eyes, his weary body groaning as he tossed back the blankets and crawled out of bed. A light sheen of sweat hugged him, the slight breeze from the open window forcing chill bumps to spread over his body. Quietly he crept through the darkened hall. His foot prints left in the deep carpeting the only evidence of him passing through. He stopped at the first door, peeking in on his baby. She lay peacefully asleep, all curled up in her pink sheets and clutching her white angel bear. Such a beautiful child, she looked so much like her mother, but she had his mother's soulful eyes. His smile was small and his heart heavy as he moved on to the next room. Their son, almost a man now. It seemed life times ago when they had brought home that squalling little red faced blue bundle. He ground the heel of his hand into his eye, mashing at the sting of the tears forming there. He moved away from the room and headed down the stairs. The house was quiet. Dead quiet. He didn't like that. He concentrated on listening to his breathing, the patterns and rhythms. He slid his hand along the back of the couch, the soft afghan she knitted still in it's same spot. It was a comfort. The sameness. He took a left through the hallway, his smile forming like vapor on a window as he passed by the discarded garments. Their costumes from Halloween trick or treating of earlier that evening. They had had a good time together, even Zane. His protests of 'Dad! I'm too old to go trick or treating with you and Hailey!' soon forgotten after the thrill of the night had begun. He stumbled over a pair of shoes in the diningroom. His smile over the common annoyance misplaced after he'd righted himself. Sometimes it was the little things like that. The things that reminded him of how real his life was. How everyday and ordinary. He liked that. The tile of the kitchen floor was cold on his bare feet. He ignored it. The goose flesh had returned. The prickle at the back of his neck made him stiffen. Like cold fingers had run up his spine. That happened all too often when he entered the kitchen and he was alone, without distractions. It was almost as if he could still feel her there. In his boxers he padded across the room and reached to the high cupboard over the fridge. The creak of the door reminding him that he needed to oil the hinges. It reminded him every time. He never remembered though. He took the bottle down from it's hiding place. Like an old friend he caressed it, leaving the cupboard door open as he turned away. He took a cup from the dish drainer, some old faded plastic tumbler, once bright with a witty and sarcastic Garfield. Garfield had seen better days. So had he. He winced at the scrape of the chair on the kitchen floor. It seemed unbearably loud in the quiet of the house. He hated to wake the kids. The quiet thunk of the bottle as he set it on the table was familiar. He'd done this so many times. So often it seemed absurd. Still, he did it. Out of familiarity. He plunked his ass on the hard wood of the chair. His elbows leaning on the table. It was sticky. He smiled. Moonlight speared the room, pouring in from the sliding glass door to the back yard. He looked out upon the scattered toys and sports equipment. The swing looking ever so lonely as it swayed in the chilly fall breeze. He smiled again, that same old lonely smile. The one that made him feel grateful for what he had. Abscent mindedly he reached for the large bowl of candy in the center of the table. He'd left Avie to man the door of his own house as he and his children had scampered through his suburban neighborhood. Either she was stingy or he'd bought far too much to dole out, for there was a good amount of tiny chocolate bars in the bottom of the 'cauldron.' Mindlessly he munched on the sweet treat as he poured the sharp amber poison from the long necked bottle. It had to be poison. It killed his memory of her. He could smell it. Pungeant, leaving a spikey feel to his tongue long before he'd even taken his first sip. He closed the bottle and shoved it away from him like the fiend it was. He curled his big hand around the cup. Garfield taunting him from beneath his fingers. He grimaced at his mind, the way it raced and shifted too fast. He slammed the cup to his lips and downed the whole dose in one gulp. He sucked in his breath, the aching burn stinging sharply as it trickled down his throat like a stream of fire. It warmed that hollow place in his belly. And he shook his head as he reached for the bottle once more. He was tempted to pour another. He resisted. He shoved another mini chocolate bar into his mouth, licking his lips of the sweet and sharp tastes that mingled there. He got up from the table and shoved the bottle back into it's resting place. The creak of the cupboard being ignored when he shut away the traitor. He went to the sink, rinsing out the cup and washing his sticky arms. When he shut off the hiss of the water it was quiet again. Too quiet. Sometimes the quiet frightened him. He hummed softly under his breath to keep himself company. He left the room, a small sense of loss comming over him, like he was leaving her behind. He could never do that. She was too much a part of him. Had shaped so much of his life. He could never leave her out of anything. She was always there. He headed for the stairs, and his bed, their bed. He couldn't resist the temptation. He looked in on them again. It was just something inside him that made him need to know if they were ok. Every second of every day. Zane was snoring softly. He chuckled to himself. Just like his Uncle Ike. He closed the door and left his son to his slumber. He checked on Hailey then. His little ballerina. Six years old. Where had the time gone? She stirred in her sleep, rolling over, her bear falling to the floor. That bear. He was her best friend. Always had been. Though he worked hard at trying to keep it white, it never failed to amaze him at how loved it looked under it's layers of grime. He would wash it, repair it's tears and poke it's stuffing back in after their adventures in trees and forts or falling off her bike. He was always there for her, that's why she loved that bear. Her angel bear. Her Uncle Tay had chosen well when he'd brought that to her the day she was born. She was one baby that needed a guardian angel. He stepped into the room and picked it back up, tucking it into her arms. She snuggled up to it. "Thank you Daddy." Her sleepy little voice yawned. He smiled down at her, stroking the hair from her forehead. "Goodnight Baby." He hushed. His smile was sad. Her breathing slowed and he knew she was back to sleep. He bent and kissed her forehead. Then he crept from the room. Like a thief in the night he slipped back into his room. The framed portraits on his dusty chest of drawers comforting. Her perfume seemed to linger in the air still. He shut the window. The breeze making him shiver. Or was that the thought of having another one of those dreams? He shook his head to clear the cobwebs as he edged toward the bed. He lay down on his side of the bed, the sheets cold against his skin. He tossed and turned, finally the fingers of sleep grasping at his concious once more. He snuggled into his pillow, much like Hailey and her bear. He could almost feel her there, next to him. Warm curves that his hand slid so easily over in the night. The fullness of her ripe breasts. The heat of her sex pressed against his thigh. His hand had fit so easily over the curve of her hip, his fingers kneading her firm backside. He could hear her lilting voice as if it were carried on the wind. The way she would softly moan his name when he touched her. He groaned in his sleep, rolling over onto his back, spread eagle, his erection reaching heavenward. He licked his lips, her taste still there, the tingle of her firm, full lips taking his almost palpable. His fingers curled like when he gripped her hips. He groaned throatily, remembering how she felt as she sank onto his long, thick shaft. The way her body moved with his to reach that summit of perfecton on earth. He'd always loved it when she would ride him slow, her nipples stiff, raking over his chest as he kissed her deeply. Then she would sit up, her body screaming for it's release as she rode him fast and hard. Her breasts bathed in moonlight, eyes shimmering as she stabbed herself again and again with his manhood. He rumbled, deep in his chest. Six long years of going without her were built up inside of him. His hips thrust up from the matress. His eyes were screwed shut tight as he clung to that thread of sleep that allowed him the torturous taste of her. The dreams, they were always so real, but he was never allowed to have what he needed most of her. Release. Hers and his. That pinicle moment when they existed as one. Six long years he had been torn from sleep every time just before he was allowed that one shining satisfaction. She haunted him in so many ways. Ways he lived with gladly just to remember her. But this, this was maddening! He called her name but it never helped... until now. His eyes snapped open with sudden force when he felt her, tightening around him, her otherworldly moan pulling at his soul as she writhed on him, her orgasm tearing his from his body. He was cumming so hard he was dizzy, his voice a growl of satisfaction after years of being starved of her. "Mienahhh...!" His body spasmed uncontrollably then he caught his breath, his eyes meeting hers for a split second. Then she was gone... again... and he was left alone in a cold bed once more. He was sure she would still haunt him. But no more at night. Then he rested, peacefully. For the first time in six long years. |
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| a man for all seasons |
| a man for all seasons |