Love Games

Thirteen: I know the risks, but I do it anyway

I sit on the sofa, my mind drifting with thoughts of the night.

The room is dim, the only light coming through the curtains at the first signs of dawn.

Slowly the sun will rise.

But I'm not asleep yet.

I'm holding a cup of coffee, its warmth seeping into my hands.

Even though coffee doesn't work for me, I don't mind.

It never keeps me from sleeping, which isn't a problem right now, because sleep is the furthest thing from my mind.

My hair is a mess, tangled and wild from the night's activities.

My lips are swollen, still tingling.

Yet despite my exhaustion, I feel strangely reborn, invigorated by the night's events.

I touch my lips with my hand and close my eyes.

In the darkness behind my eyelids I see his eyes, the intense hunger in his gaze.

I can still feel the pressure of his perfect body, moving with an insatiable desire.

In an hour or two I'll have to get ready for work at the bookshop.

My body feels both tired and electrified.

I rise from the sofa and stretch my limbs, feeling the pain and exhilaration in my muscles.

I begin to undress, taking off the dress decorated with tiny pebbles.

This dress deserved a night like this, a night of passion and danger.

As I gather my thoughts and clothes, the reality of who I've tangled with sinks in.

Someone dangerous.

A Don.

The idea of pushing it all away, of hiding from him, crosses my mind.

But I know it's useless. He'll find me. He always will.

I go to my room and carefully hang my clothes on the rack.

The dress swings gently, a silent reminder of the night.

I gather a fresh set of clothes and head for the bathroom, feeling the weight of fatigue mixed with a lingering thrill.

I step into the shower and let the hot water wash over me.

I wash away the evidence, scrubbing my skin to erase all traces of him.

The make-up dissolves, the scent of him washes away, and slowly I feel the remnants of the night fade from my skin.

But the memory remains. His touch, his scent, his presence - it is all etched in my mind, a tattoo of the intensity of the night.

I close my eyes under the water, replaying the moments, knowing this won't be the last time I see him.

He's dangerous, yes, but there's a pull, an attraction, that can't be ignored.

When my shower is finished, I step out and dry off, wrapping myself in a towel.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my reflection a woman transformed by the night's events.

I look into my own eyes and see a mixture of fear and excitement, a knowledge of the risks and a yearning for the thrill.

As I prepare to face the day, to go to work in the bookshop, a part of me stays with him, bound by the intensity of the night.

No matter what happens, I know I'll be changed, marked by the encounter with someone dangerous.

Someone who has the power to find me, no matter where I hide. And as much as this thought terrifies me, it also exhilarates me.