His Little Heir

Fetish

     Fashad's cold air nipped and bit at him, ruffling Leon's hair. The sun had rose. However, the cold remained as it always did.

    Miserable.

     As a boy, he had enjoyed rosy cheeks and the hot tea that followed. Now Leon just wanted to be warm. And if that was true, and in a once in a life time occurance it was, Daya must be frozen by now. He reached out to pull her close, much entertained by the idea of melting her with cuddles.

     But his arms came back empty and cold.

     Where was she?

     Events of the night crashed and crested against his skull as Leon wracked his brain. Had Daya left earlier and he had just not remembered? No, after the kiss-

      The kiss!

     How could he have forgotten that? Her velvet lips had collided against Leon's in a fury, and did not let go.   Their honey, only now, was somehow sweeter than it had been earlier that day. Why? He touched his lips, searching for a reason as he longed for hers again.

     The answer clicked into place:

    Passion.

     Daya had cut the tension this time, not Leon. Her hands had drawn him in, and her rose mixing with his pine had provided the intoxicating reason for them to stay.

     For her to stay.

     When he tried to forget her, his lips  crashed against others. Leon, as influential as he was, could have anyone he wanted. And so he searched, and searched, until the television screen flickered on and there Daya was. She had looked into the camera that day. And in such a rare occasion, she fixated her gaze on it as to say "they aren't me."

     And she was right.

    
    He descended the ladder's rungs as they shook with age; the founding memories of his hiding place were littered with pain and glossed over in time.

     But in cascading color, last night replaced them all.

    

     "You took her up to your hiding place last night, didn't you?"

     Bertha's voice sent a whiplash of lightning up Leon's back, and in shock, he let go of the last rung; sadly, balcony concrete did not kiss as light as his lover. He went down. And seeing stars not so beautiful as the night before's, he fought what gravity had already dealt in its due diligence.

     Leon growned and massaged his temples, "Berthaaaa..."
   
      "Oh! You did! Didn't you!?"she jumped, clapping her hands, "Oh, Leon! I'm so proud of you for opening up!"
    
     "Thanks, I guess."
   
      "Why aren't you happy? Did something happen?"
    
     "Ah, I don't know, maybe I just busted my a-"
    
Bertha's red hot glare quieted him.

     "Abs! My poor, poor abs, now crushed and busted. Owww." Leon cleaned his teeth, inhaling as he rubbed his stomach wincing.
   
      "Uhuh. Don't tell me you talk to your fiancee like that." She moved both hands to her hips.
    
     "Not me, that's her ex."

     "Right- so that's not why she's down in the kitchen slaving over breakfast, looking all lonesome and upset?"
 
     "Daya's upset?" Leon tightened his fists.

     "Isn't that your job to figure out, son?"

     "Yes but-"

     Bertha stepped through the glass door, "Then my work here is done."