Love In a Maze

Evensong I

It was unusually warm for a Minnesota September he quietly crept into her home through an open window. He had scaled the fire escape to the apartment that lie just above her store. He had noticed the stairs that led to a secret door the evening before as they circled each other around the rows of books. The level of oddness in this gesture hadn't even occurred to him, blinded by the influence of grand romantic gestures. As he watched her silently the level of voyeurism hit him and he turned to crawl out the window as quietly has he came. For a second he stilled following her figure as she glowed in a flickering light, the only source in the small crowded apartment. Her caramel skin almost iridescent under the incandescent light of a compact black and white TV. Masses of curly dark hair piled in a messy bun in the center of her head. Raising an elegant arm she yawned. The grey crop top she wore barely covering her breasts. Her thin waist stretched as her eyes stayed glued to the television in the corner.

"This woman." He said to himself. She had no clue what she had done to him. Before even meeting her, she held sway with her words. She was an enigma, a puzzle he was desperately trying to put together. He held only a few of her pieces, but he wanted the rest.

Silently he swaggered to where she sat on the couch, crouching down he whispered. "Good, Evening." Trying his best to replicate Alfred Hitchcock as she watched. With one swift motion his tongue flicked against her ear.

"What the fuck!" She screamed jumping across the living room. It was a very tiny apartment but still a feat in one jump. Heart pounding she looked up to the figure in the darkness. His long hair gently brushing against the large square shoulders of a trench coat, "in 80 degree weather", was a dead give away for the intruder. "How the hell can someone be so quiet in heels."

"Kid, you have got to be fucking me." She said with a slight unexpected smile, wiping the wetness from her ear, as she turned on a lamp.

"Eventually." He responded brazenly swaying his body into the light.

"What are you doing here?" He had just appeared out of nowhere and she began to think about some unknown mystical powers. He hadn't made a sound, his ability to control and adjust every small movement his body made was astounding. She had begun to wonder if he always held this level of mastery, or if there were perhaps situations where he could let go.

"We have unfinished business." He hopped over her Victorian couch and landed smoothly, barely ruffling the long coat he wore. He turned back to her an unbearably cocky grin curling over his lips.

She tried in vain to pull her smile back down. All his swift movements excited her and he knew it. She had hoped he would be just as easily impressed by her, but somehow this had seemed doubtful.

"You know..." She said trying to stack books, empty tea and coffee mugs in a more appealing manner. She hadn't been expecting company so her crowded quarters were a little more disheveled. "I feel like the past 2 years of my life is being held hostage. I'm starting to believe you may not even have it."

Taking the book out of the inside pocket of his coat, he started to flip through through the pages carefully, a sly smile on his face. "I could just start ripping out pages and mailing them to you."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Don't call my bluff..." He purred lowly as he flipped delicately through the pages of the well worn journal.

Suddenly he felt her weight on him as she crawled over his body to reach for the book. He inhaled deeply as his face was bombarded with tons of dark spirals. She smelled fresh of lavender and she tasted so sweet, like cinnamon. He still couldn't get the taste of her out of his mind. He hoped that memory on his lips would always be there. He kept the journal slightly out of reach so her body strained against his.