Love Games

Twenty: I am unemployed, alone, and lost.

The sun shines through the curtains of Emma's flat, casting a golden glow across the room and gently waking me.

Even through my closed eyelids I feel the light, a signal that morning has come.

It's early, but the brightness suggests that the morning has been stretching out for some time.

I roll over to the other side of the bed, instinctively reaching for warmth that isn't there.

The sheets are cold, untouched. I open my eyes and the realisation hits me again: he is not here.

There is no him.

Was it all just a dream? Or did it really happen?

I fumble for my phone on the bedside table, my heart heavy with a mixture of confusion and fear.

The screen lights up, showing the time - twelve o'clock.

Half the day has passed unnoticed.

Among the notifications, one message stands out and makes my heart race: a text from Adriana.

Adriana. The bookshop. My job.

"Dear Sarah," the message reads, "I know it's sudden, but since you weren't at work yesterday and didn't even text me, that's not the way I work. I've always been fair to you, I've helped you as much as I could. But I can't do it anymore. Unfortunately, as of today, you no longer work for me." As I read the words, fat tears begin to roll down my cheeks.

The weight of the situation presses down on me, the culmination of years of effort, dedication and sacrifice.

All the times I had gone above and beyond for Adriana, all the late nights and early mornings, trying my best to prove my worth, all leading up to this moment of abrupt dismissal.

I sit up, wiping away the tears with the back of my hand, feeling a hollow emptiness where my sense of purpose used to be.

The betrayal stings, not just because of the job, but because of the bond I thought I had with Adriana.

It seems so unfair, so sudden, so final.

As I try to steady my breathing, I can't help but replay the last few days in my mind, looking for signs, for something I might have missed.

I thought we were more than just employer and employee.

I thought we were friends.

But now all these thoughts and feelings are overshadowed by the harsh reality: I am unemployed, alone and lost.

The sun continues to shine through the curtains.

I close my eyes and lie back in bed, sinking into the familiar embrace of the sheets.

They still smell of him, a tantalising mix of his cologne and the raw scent of his skin.

I take a deep breath and with each inhale the memories flood back, vivid and electric.

I can still feel all the vibrations, the echo of his touch lingering on my skin.

His presence was overwhelming, every movement a symphony of sensations.

The way he made love to me - raw, intense and unyielding - left an indelible mark on my body and soul.

Every thrust, caress and whisper felt like a crescendo building to a climax, pushing me to the edge and beyond.

My body responded to him with a fervour I had never known, trembling with each orgasm, shuddering with each wave of pleasure that coursed through me.

It was all real.