Short Stories

Silken String Part One

Opening my door and walking in, I let out a sigh and set my bags on the hardwood beside the desk. Running my fingers through my hair I grip the back of my shirt and begin to pull it over my head.

Feeling the day being peeled away from my skin.

Tossing it into the hamper I walk over to the record player on the coffee table by the window and turn it on. The soft melodies of Arctic Monkeys begin to envelop the room.

As I begin to walk over to my desk, I reach into the chest at the end of the bed. Grabbing the black and gray rope and feeling the silken string against my palms.

I knew she would be in here soon. She always knows exactly when I get home, like clockwork.

Looping the rope around the wooden posts at the end of the bed, I meticulously maneuver the thick string until it is at the length that I want. Placing the finished piece on the charcoal duvet, I walk to the other side and begin the same process. My fingers moving without a thought, knowing the patterns by heart.

She will be here any moment.

As I finish the last of my tasks, I sit down on the edge of the bed. Placing my head into my hands. My body relaxes into the subconscious grip as I listen for her footsteps.

One by one I hear her shoes against the hardwood flooring, pattering down the hallway to my door.

With a soft breeze the door creaks open as her head pops through, eyes searching for my own. She takes a few steps in and sets her things on the right side of my desk- a force of habit she made long ago.

Slipping her shoes off and neatly lining them with the edge of the rug she walks over to me. Placing her hands on my shoulders, I straighten my back to look up at her.

My gaze is frozen.

The way that her hair perfectly frames her face as a smile erupts could be the last image I see on earth, and I would be grateful.

Her rosy cheeks mix into her freckles that dot the bridge of her nose or the dimples poke out when she gets nervous.

She was breathtaking.

As my own body floats back down from the heavens she places her knees on either side of my thighs. Sitting in my lap- reading the expressions on my face as if she had read them a thousand times before.

As I place my calloused hand on her cheek, rubbing softly my thumb against her supple skin- I speak.

"I need a sense of calm and control, will you allow me that?"

Her head nods as she rests against my palm.

My chest vibrates as I groan softly. Wrapping my hands around her thighs- I stand up. Her midnight black nails begin to absentmindedly intertwine in the bottom of my hair, mindlessly playing with it.

I stand and begin to turn around so that she is hovering over the bed, delicately placing her down in the center. My fingers dance across her soon to be bare skin as I gently undress her. Folding and placing every item meticulously on the arm chair beside the bed.

Whispering my fingertips down her shoulder to her palm, I bring it to my mouth. Carefully pressing my lips to her knuckles and letting my eyes float through my lashes towards her.

The way her amber orbs shine in the sunlight entrances me- pure syrup runs within them. The way her chest rises and falls with every breath, the slightly tanned skin written across every page of my memory.

Her eyes follow me as I walk to the end of the bed, gripping the rope and dragging it to her ankle. Tying intricate patterns along her calf until I reach her knee. My hands gently caressing either side and placing a kiss at the top. I pull away and walk to the other side of the bottom and begin the same process.

Her arms lay above her head, palms gracing the ceiling above. The sun twinkles across her naked body like pure satin. Absorbing every thought in my head as I gaze at her raw beauty.

Her lips turn up to a shy smile as a chuckle leaves her mouth- I had been staring too long

"Just let me look at you a moment longer my love"

Those honey eyes apathetically flutter as her breathing steadies.

She is the artwork I have been studying for years- memorizing every detail and fragment.

To be continued..