Lisa Williams
an illicit coffee when you should be working
A
child full of Autumn sun, not peturbed by the gathering storm, makes them with
giggle tinged breath and an urgently dipped stick .
Gliding
magical mirrored globes.
Float
towards a fuscous sky.
They
rise. Drift.
Reflecting
a violet wing over a chalk hill. Remains of an impromptu picnic. A hand held,
just a little too long, on the tartan check. They see the glance. The colouring
of that cheek that he slides his against. To whisper in her ear. They see the
beginning of something but keep their secrets safe as with a quick liquid burst
they are gone.
Beginnings
often catch us unaware.
The
whisper almost lost in the folding of the picnic blanket. Trapped in its tartan
folds and packed away for winter.
But
she catches it with a gasp before it creeps along her spine. Turns to check
she's heard it right as an obsidian curtain drops, the rain starts and the
ground sighs at its touch.
With
arms outstretched the child flies down the hill. Leaving them in the rain.
Holding a blanket. A decision hanging in the air. Thunder then, rumbles its
approach as a flutter of beating wings rise from a distant
tree.
Crisp
leaves carpet the path as they stroll. Just the two of them although decorum
walks between them as they both battle the inner need to be so much
closer.
Midas
had run on ahead touching the few leaves that still stubbornly clung to bare
branches before heading home to write summer's eulogy.
Moments
ago this day had stretched out endlessly before them but now the streetlights
come on and draw it to an unwelcome close. They kiss then in the glowing embers
of their first shared day.
A
kiss tinged with coffee.
And
a promise of so much more
December
didn't bring the expected chill to their trysts. It sent them inside and as they
left uncharted waters and made for land a fear of discovery silently crept
behind them. Detection by those that shouldn't ever know of those broken
promises, the stolen happiness they'd shared together.
Their
heartbeats quickened by more than simply desire. They met with pockets full of
excuses for the questions that never came. Deleted messages, plans not on any
calendar; until they met it was as if they didn't even
exist.
They
became an ephemeral whisper of broken vows on winter's sharp easterly
wind.
Each
passing day they spoke. Surreptitiously. Shared the time when they could, hidden
from prying eyes. And from this, deep within them it grew. An all encompassing
build of desire. A need. Not felt before. Nurtured it seemed from
nothing.
Hopes,
held together with gossamer thin strands. They tiptoed to keep them tied tight,
tried not to rock their boat, neither wanting their tenuous bond to break whilst
on their trip.
They
fed each other's hunger with this fresh found joy. With the thrill of excitement
they wanted to shout from the rooftops but which was too secret to share..
Firelit
curves only give a glimpse of the picture on the fur rug. It's a Tuesday
afternoon early in December. The air is breath catchingly cold.
There's
a trail of recklessly discarded clothes from the hall. Edges define then in the
warming glow after a frenzied undressing. As two shapes lean together, reach
forward and the curves meet to join as one. That fireside kiss needs both hands
to still her shiver of delight.
Firelit
curves that move gently, rocking to a backdrop of gasped breath and the smell of
cedar and red wine are perhaps easier to make out.
Grey
skies are hidden by a curtain pulled closed in the daytime. He becomes her
sunshine on brumous days. They draw closer. In embraces longed for since their
last meet. She flicks the Christmas tree lights on with a bare toe, the only
illumination in the room.
This
closed door togetherness, one they can't share in public provides a frisson that
they don't really need.
A
turn.
A
look.
A
coming together until they're so close a marriage certificate couldn't come
between them.
And
then.
Their
kisses.
That
feed their aches of desire and seemingly erase all time before
them.
Have
you ever longed for escape?
For
something new and exciting to take hold?
They
hadn’t courted this. But there it was. Found when they hadn't been searching.
They didn't feel they could control this need, urgency almost, to be
together.
Over
Christmas assignations were harder to arrange with a surfeit of family filling
the house. A shared afternoon before, he unwrapped her, they had their
celebration then. Then used the time to try and halt things. Hoping commonsense
would take over.
Tell
tale footprints led to his door though, when the year ended covered in a blanket
of snow.
Icicles
like frosted alabaster outside the upstairs window mirror the honey drip of
pleasure from within as the New Year starts with a warming fervour. Forced apart
over Yule their aches desperately need sating. With a wife visiting relatives
they take advantage on a neatly made marital bed.
Wrong.
So
very wrong.
But
from the guttural groan from behind the bedroom door followed by a tremulous
'YES' they have found solace in each other’s arms. Needs met. That dull pain of
desire gratifyingly quelled. The year continues as they grasp fleeting moments
of joy together in an otherwise calamitous world.
Joy.
Unbridled
joy.
Rippling
through life is a rarity. And when it's found it needs to be nurtured, kept
safe. Lest it rise on the wind and fly to warmer shores. And so they look after
their bliss as Spring brings with it pendulous clumps of blossom that falls on
their heads like confetti.
Confetti.
Like at the weddings they'd both had but not to each other. The words unspoken,
they shared that though. They'd both married the wrong
person.
Fresh
hope burst from the ground beneath where they sat. Fingers entwined.
Susurrations of nothings between them, peppered with
kisses.
Kisses.
Endless
kisses. That both feed the ache and sate in one delicious mouth aching paradox.
Concealed usually from view for no one to know. Stolen on a busy street. Risky,
but necessary. Caught up in the kilig, a bounce in steps. The monotony of life
suddenly easier to bear with this secret burst of bliss tucked away in their
hearts.
The
anticipation that escalates with each passing day apart, for the next time.
Snatched seconds of a call. A text. A chance meeting.
Making
do with memories of a lip brushing softly against flesh until the inevitable
next time.
Lost
loves can always be found if they want to be.
The
deep plummeting sadness of being apart, without contact feels like it could
kill. The hurt, the sadness takes over and eats into the day with a heavy dark
bite.
She
sits alone at her table. Marmalade on toast catching in her throat as the
memories rise to the surface with a sparkle that fades as soon as they surface.
There's no escape from them. Her skin tingles with the remembrance of his kisses
and the tears almost rust her heart.
He
hopes she knows he's thinking of her.
Magic,
like lightning can strike the same place more than once, and so it did in her
heart as spring turned to summer and he returned. She'd mourned for what they'd
shared in the week he was away. Tried to tell herself he wasn't hers to lose.
But as he came back from foreign shores. A little tanned. He had a deeper hunger
in his eyes.
They
kissed in the street.
Discovery
would stop them having to hide.
And
with the door barely closed they came together like a battle. Fighting away the
week apart with an almost spellbinding fury.
No
one knowing about something can feel strange. The more it goes on. Ethereal and
dreamlike can become just plain weird. But it was hard to reveal something that
was just for them. And so many others would be hurt by the pleasure they
shared.
So
they chose to keep it safe for now, although it meant there was so much they
couldn't do together. The simple normalities. A morning. Brushing teeth. Even a
supermarket shop somehow held a tantalising tug of desire.
We
always want what we haven't got, they had each other, but neither liked having
to share.
Only
when you’ve had an affair can you know that heart clutch, lurch of panic when
you're at last discovered.
A
telltale receipt left in the car, singing in the shower, vestiges of scent on a
dress. Being spotted walking out of the cinema on a Thursday afternoon by a
friend. The pocketful of excuses had tumbled unnoticed under the seat with the
popcorn as they kissed.
Both
blinking in the light, questions hit them unaware. Their kiss flushed faces give
them away. Prompting a phonecall later. A third degree. Hurt that this huge
secret hadn't been a shared one.
Paris.
A balcony. A bare shoulder.
Bubbles
of excitement rise inside them like in a flute of champagne. A secret shared
meant they could spread their wings. Cover stories provide a night away, a whole
night together.
They
are bowled over by possibilities of the enchanted evening ahead. More time than
they've ever known before. And a romantic new city to explore.
They
choose the nearest supermarket.
And
a trolley. To make it seem more real.
Later
as stars sparkle burning their last through the window they sit up in bed with
biscuits and marshmallows. Giggling with adventure and
delights.
Quelled
feelings build. Good or bad. The feeling between them had built and built and
had to explode. In a Paris hotel room they saw the future. This was it. Now. It
wasn’t going to get better.
Neither
would leave their partner. Children. Complications. The house. There was a tower
of reasons hovering over them. But, as they slid down the bed to spend their
first night together, on a layer of biscuit crumbs it didn't
matter.
Their
happiness was here. Was on a hill. Was wherever they could be, regardless of who
they shared the rest of life with.
Rising
early the next morning because of open curtains they do try to make it seem
normal. But just having the head on the next pillow to wake up to seemed
strange. They both sat up, as reality sank in. Thoughts naturally going those
they usually woke up next to with a swift lurch of guilt.
They
reassure each other.
And
then slip into each others arms and reassure each other without
words.
It
was a one off. To be enjoyed but possibly never to be repeated.
But
a little bit of wanting it to be forever had crept in.
She
wakes with an emptiness the next morning. Looks across at a pillow without him
on it and heads straight for the shower, unable to face her husband. Needing to
wash her flesh that had been so kissed and loved
The
emptiness grows as the day goes on. Niggles. Arguments. Little life battles that
her other life didn't have. She knew it was too good to be true that it was a
dream not reality.
Could
never be.
As
the argument continues into the afternoon she feels lucky to be able to visit
that alternate hedonistic universe, share some pleasure.
The
problem he had was that he just wanted her. That was it.
Needed
to have her, completely. Her way of seeing things, the delight of the new. He
couldn't see the solution though and he didn't like that. He was a man for which
solutions came easily.
His
wife was away.
Paris.
And
the house seemed no emptier than usual. Her not being here didn't matter, it was
missing some laughter. It needed the warmth and fun that he’d found away from
his marriage.
He
reached for a drink as he sat down to think about all the
options.
Ultimately
you may judge our couple.
Their
indiscretions.
Their
selfish need to squirrel away seeking pleasure, lack of concern for other’s
feelings in the quest to satisfy their uncontrollable urges.
You
may cloud the story with a tale of your own. It's inevitable. It's the nature of
narrative, but this one's mine, or theirs that I'm telling for them.
And
if I can confide a secret here, now that we've bonded, it's not just the tale of
two, a single couple. It's their partners too, unified in their scandalous
encounters. So they deserve each other despite not wanting each
other.
Vestige
of a distant scent. Perfume. A strange sillage on the air. Just enough to jangle
nerves but she wonders if it’s in her mind. Sullied by her own
misdemeanours
A
trepidation to mention, less it prompts a barrage of questions. Where were you?
(With him) and she doesn’t want that to spoil the joy he’s built up earlier for
her.
So
she ignores it. Like the other little suggestions that her husband's cheating on
her. Although deep down she’s beginning to realise she’s coming second best in
both relationships. A truth that hurts more than anything else ever
could.
When
wishes come true.
What’s
left then?
What
happens to our dreams, a tumble of reveries redundant as we reach tranquillity,
our Arcadia on those serene lapis seas.
That
bumble bee buzz of contentment.
Can
it last forever? Or will we seek new idylls?
She
wonders if he said he’d leave his wife. Would that be it? Or is it a never
ending circle. And in a decade or so do we begin again with a new brittle
litany. Slip into yet another dreamworld.
Will
he repeat and in turn leave her.
And
so continue into a perpetual ammonites spiral.
X
A
single kiss at the end of a text. That in itself wasn't unusual but she stared
at it longer than she normally would. Before it plummeted into the chasm of
deleted texts.
Evidence
erased. Often before the message has sunk in. But this. A small flickering
screen in a shaking hand.
Tomorrow
The Zoo Meet you in the carpark. Bring C X
Another
carpark. But to take Charlie? It seemed strange. She couldn't know the depth of
the meaning but with a tremor in her heart she mulled before a call took her
away and back to reality.
'You
know I'll never leave her.' It
was murmured into her neck almost like another whisper long ago. Another couple.
Another affair. Almost went unheard because of the huge crack of her heart
breaking.
A
magpie landed in the park, followed by another.
Two
for joy.
'I
know,' she said hiding her sadness.
I
hoped I was wrong. I wanted to be more. I needed you to be mine. Please leave
her. I thought we made each other happy. She didn't say, swallowed the words
down deeper below her aching heart as one magpie disappeared with an iridescent
green flash.
Zoos
are the perfect places to visit when you’ve got to keep a secret; full of school
trips and tired parents of toddlers.
No
one there to hover over you, over hear you saying that you're leaving her. No
pressure, but it should make things easier.
And
as an excited toddler watches a tiger pace up and down in his corroded cage, a
burst ball in his mouth they hold each other tight.
And
she rests a cheek on his. Knowing that from this inevitably sad ending something
good has definitely just begun for them.
Maybe for
all of them.
About the author
Drablr author profile for Lisa Williams (scribblingwren). Domestic Slattern.
Avid reader. Writes a bit. A flash-fiction self-publishing social network. https://drablr.com/scribblingwren
