Veiled Affection

Chapter Forty five

I am in my study. The same room I have been writing this whole story in the past month. But as I now sit behind my desk, and lift my pen, something has changed. I suppose that change had already partly happened in the previous chapter, when I began in the way that I did, and since then that change has developed into something that I can see, and acknowledge.

I feel as if the momentum has vanished in these writings. The plot is gone. I write, but there aren't any noticeable events I am writing towards. But then again, never was that my intention; I write was has happened, and the apparent renewal and tensity it seemed to give was just an additional benefit.

I could write about many more special moments; precious encounters with her, and I believe that I wrote in the previous chapter that I would do exactly that. But after I wrote that whole bit, and I sat in the living room that evening with Cate, I came to the realization that it might be better that I wouldn't. That moment with her was hardly any different than the one hundred times before, but it wasn't so much what externally happened as it was what was going on in my head.

I was sitting cross-legged on the couch, she was seated in the chair opposite of me, and we both had a book in our hands. It was one of those moments: quiet, calm, perfect. Upon finishing a chapter in my book, I settled my focus onto Cate. One leg she rested on top of the other; her head rested in the palm of her hand. I was so deeply focused that I noticed every breath she took, her stomach expanding slightly with each inhale, then compressing again with the exhale.

''You are staring,'' She said and looked up. ''I can't concentrate when you stare.''

I smiled, lowered my head, continued to look at the words on the page. Look, not read. Because it didn't took me ten seconds before I looked up at her again. She didn't move her head up, but motioned her eyes to me and stared at me for a second.

''Have it your way,'' All of the sudden she closed her book and put it away.

She got up, made her way to the record player and set in a familiar tune. She turned back around and held out her hand to me. I didn't waver.

We danced in the middle of the living room, like we had done so many times before. And like those times, this time, too, we took turns taking the lead. One moment it was her who spun me around, the next moment I lifted her off the ground. Similarly we took turns choosing the melodies. She tended to go for the up-beat rub-up-against-each-other songs, whereas I took a liking for the slow press-your-body-to-mine tunes.

''I am hungry.'' She said at one point. It had been my turn to choose, so we held each other close as a lazy sound filled the room.

I smiled. What a way to kill the mood, I thought.

''What do you want?''

She came closer, and into my ear, she said: ''You.''

How wrongly I thought. The mood was back, revived into something more amorous; tenderness replaced by plain desire.

I leaned back, met her eyes, a glint of hunger noticeable.

''You have a way with words, Cate.''

''And it isn't even me who writes.''

I took a step back from her and spread out my arms. Here I was, standing before her, ceding myself to her.

''Have all of me then.'' I said.

She grinned. And then, whereas I thought she might take me into her arms in one swift motion, to then kiss me profusely, she didn't. Instead, she came two steps closer, slowly, placidly, and she lay one hand on my cheek. She looked deeply into my eyes and it felt so intimate, so pure. And when she leaned in and kissed me, it was so soft that her lips barely touched mine. Again with the eye contact as she rubbed her thumb against my cheek.