Waiting for Spring

Up the staircase we go, a father and his shadow, the profile of future generations silhoueted on the wall. We are together in our own safe time continuum, I his joy, he my safety net. Untouchable.

We walk in the woods hand in hand under a pewter sky, warm mittened, haloed by clouds of breath, grey air and giggles filling the gaps. Leaves lie heeped and heavy under foot, too damp for crisp-kicking. I collect one of each colour and take them home. A fist of leaves.

The collage of dried leaves remains on the wall, the echo of a poetic heart, autumn years now unfettered by earthly tethers. Our family tree with its broken arm.

The family gather around the kitchen table and say their fare-thee-well.

“Slangevar.” A glass lifted to the heavens.

I walk up the staircase. Me and my shadow. I hold out my hand for the angel and shiver.

“Fare thee well?.”

Beneath me, the family seesaws in a lullaby of grief and memories. A ship in safe harbour, nursing her wounds. A ghost of its former self, love still billows the sails, ready to steer a new course.

Denied

            I was in the high street again, standing in front of the plate glass window of that chi-chi clothes store, lost in my own reflection. When had I become that woman? 

           "Looking in mirrors again Mizzy? What do you see?" A voice from my past broke the spell. Was this real?
           "Steve! Where did you spring from? I didn’t know you came here." I spoke to his illusion, not turning to face him.        
           "I don’t normally, but I have had you on my mind lately. You mentioned this place once."
           "Gosh that must have been ages ago."          
            "It’s been a while Mizzy. I was looking for a fix. Are you still with…"
           "Luke, yes. He wouldn’t like to think I had seen you. And you? Are you with someone new?"        
            "Jan. She’s great but…not as…accommodating as you. Are you still sexsperimenting?"
           "That was a long time ago. I told you. I am with Steve now. He wouldn’t like me talking to you."      
           "I don’t see him here Mizzy. Where is he, this man who is suddenly enough for you" he spat bitterly. "Does it all stay behind closed doors with him?"

          "Don't be like that Steve. It’s different with Luke…more domestic."       
          "That doesn’t sound very thrilling. Doesn’t Lukey-boy have a taste for…diversity? I thought you’d have him trained by now. You must be ravenous Mizzy." His eyes roved over the same reflection I had felt so disconnected to in the window.  "But I see you are satiating your desires in other ways. If not spice, sugar. Is it still like it was in the beginning? Now you are more...domesticated. Do you think he is salivating for you now?"
          I looked at my reflection and felt ashamed of what I had become. But Steve through me a lifeline,

          "I am Mizzy. I still want you." I looked up. "God, look at you Mizzy. You are luscious, ripe for the plucking; tasting; sucking; fucking."

          He leaned in, his breath warming the back of my neck. His strong hands pinning my arms to my side. He inhaled the scent of my hair and let out a groan. Oh, God, I had forgotten how intoxicating this could be. I feel drunk on rekindled desire.

         "Come on Miz, we’ve been here before. You miss me, I know you do. We were untouchable. I know you are burning for resurrection just like me. You must remember how good this can be."

          My skin prickled and I could feel the hum of longing beginning to build. My voice was less certain when I spoke.

         "That was a long time ago. Things are different now, for both of us. What about Luke, Jan?" His tongue curled at the side of my neck, I shuddered.

         "Some things don’t change, Miz."  He took my elbow and spun me to face him. "You want it, I know you do. You want it as much as me." His eyes drilled into me as he reached beneath my jacket and  cupped my heavy breast, flicking his thumb over my hardening nipple.Thickly he whispered, "I smell your desire." He sucked his index finger and traced its wet tip along my collar, down to my cleavage tugging loose the first of the shell buttons. My pulse rose with the flush of anticipation across my chest and neck.

          Before I could gather my wits, Steve pulled me into the shop. The fat woman reflected in the window was gone in that instant, a mere illusion. I wasn’t her anymore. I was a goddess, desirable and dripping my own honey. Steve grabbed a dress from the rail and pulled me to the envelveted changing rooms.

         "It’s not my size" I said weakly as he hustled me inside.

         "I'm not expecting you to wear it. Nice mirrors." He winked leaning back against the closed door. "Now, hadn’t you better get undressed. I know how much you like an audience."

          I was warming to my theme: desirable temptress, seductress. Steve was giving me all the encouragement a girl could need. His eyes followed my every move as I slowly unbuttoned my blouse, my skirt, dropping them to the floor. He licked his lips as I stood in front of him, caressing my curves, luxuriating in the sensuality of my own fulness. I was a goddess. Steve Began to touch himself, the expectation mounting in his own taut frame quickening my own arousal. He was following my old rules: no mutual touching until I said so. I could tease him to the brink and beyond. The power was mine. 

         "Take them off, slowly." He was eyeing my pink leopard print knickers. I slipped a finger into the lace at the side and shimmied them over my hips, my thighs, finally letting them drop to the floor. 

He leaned in predator to prey and I felt the warmth of his breath kiss my cheek..

        "You are such a slut Mizzy," he hissed venomously.
         He turned, unlocked the door, and walked away.