Blind Carnival

Stay in Touch

She chews a biscuit feigning thoughtfulness. She has her answer, to be honest. She thinks she had it in the pub. He's calm as usual, and she enjoys the view of his lips closing over the rim of his cup.

"Sure."

She doesn't think there's much to add here. He nods again and goes back to his tea.

There are photos on the fridge, and she gets up to have a look. Two teens, definitely brothers; a woman of John's age, the same dark waves of hair and prominent long nose; an elderly gentleman with a white beard; a group of men, about a dozen of them, three photos of them in different circumstances.

"My sister, Di, and nephews." He obviously loves his family very much. "That's Ken Edison, my mentor and the senior partner in the firm I used to work in."

She picks up one of the photos of the men, there are actually thirteen of them.

"My footie team," he says.

She gives him a theatrical side glance.

"What are you, twelve?"

He chuckles.

"I'm allowed to have a hobby."

"Are you the captain? Of course, you are." It's that calm confidence of his. It's not loud, or macho, but there is authoritativeness.

The pictures are hung by little neat clothespins, magnets glued to their backs, and she suddenly thinks that maybe everything in this flat is so cosy because his ex-wife decorated it. She's not sure how she feels about it. She knows an excellent question to ask to know for sure, though.

"Do you have oven mitts?"

That's usually a give-away. He hikes up his eyebrows.

"Yes, the second drawer to the left."

Funny enough, she's already predicted in her head that he wouldn't ask why.

Are you feeling... jealous, Dane? She's known him for half a day, and it just doesn't make sense. All her intolerance to jealousy as a concept aside. And then she gets it. She feels proprietary, because she knows what it's like to be a wife - not on paper, but a life partner - and she doesn't want somebody else to have such claim on him now. Now that they agreed to conduct experiments together for an indefinite period of time. He's like that teddy bear she had when she was eight. It was her favourite, until her cousin renamed it. And she couldn't accept it, nor could she go back to the old name. She got stuck in an eternal conflict with herself and ended up giving it up for charity.

She doesn't want to give up John for charity.

"Has your wife decorated this flat?"

"No, I did." He smiles. "Does it have a feminine touch to it?"

She comes closer and stands in front of him. He wraps his arms around her middle and nuzzles her boob. She giggles.

"I haven't talked to my ex-wife for two years. I also have cornflour and crepe spreader in the cupboard." He looks up at her, laughter dancing in his Cerulean eyes. "Because I like to cook."

"You're becoming increasingly attractive."

She pushes her fingers into his hair. God, that's orgasmic. She doesn't have a thing for hair, but suddenly the clichés start making sense. She scratches his scalp with her nails. And, yep, that's purring she's hearing. She moves the mental note regarding the sounds she could elicit out of him to the top of the priority list.

She cups his face, lifts it, and rubs the beard with her thumbs. She decides that all men should have beards from now on. It's deliciously coarse. Considering how soft the hair is, it's probably the length. The silver in it does funny things to her inner muscles. There are grey strands on his temples as well, she hadn't noticed them before.

"How old are you?"

"Forty three."

He's nuzzling her palm now. She just loves how he simply answers her questions.

"Anything you would like to know about me?"

He looks at her and gives it a thought.

"Do you have any children?"

She continues stroking his jaw. There's the familiar dull pain in her chest at this question, but it's subdued these days.

She shakes her head. He has amazing eyes. Right now, they are Glaucous Blue, the lashes long and fluffy. She slides her thumb on the little wrinkles at the corner of his eye. She rubs the hollow on his temple and leans in to kiss him. He presses her closer, and it's wonderful.

They spend some time in that same position, and she offers him different parts to kiss. She tilts her head, and his soft lips are on her temple, then her jaw, then her neck. He's smiling into her skin, and then she yawns. It's been a long day. He pulls her onto his lap and envelops her into his arms.

"We should probably go to bed," he murmurs into her hair.

Now she can't stop yawning.

"Do you want a tee to sleep in?"

She nods, and he gets up, theatrically picking her up bridal style. They both laugh, and he carries her to the bedroom.

"How fortunate that you already have your own toothbrush here."

She snorts at his light teasing tone and pokes him between the ribs. He guffaws.

Clad in PJs, teeth brushed and faces washed, they curl into each other under his duvet. It's a very comfortable mattress. And a very comfortable chest to lie on. His hand is on her hip, and she falls asleep with a pleasant surprised thought that her head's still blissfully empty of any text.

***

His alarm wakes her up. He blindly smacks the radio on his side of the bed. Then he goes back to spooning her. He nuzzles her hair sleepily, and she wonders if he's trying to go back to sleep. Should she try to wake him up? He might be late for work. She hasn't been responsible for anyone's morning for quite a while.

His hand slides on her bum, and she realises that at least in part he's awake. The key word here is 'part.' Then she wonders if his love for puns is in fact contagious.

She ponders her options and then pointedly rubs her buttocks against his boner. He rumbles deep in his chest, and his arm snakes around her waist. He pulls her in closer, and his hand covers her breast. She wiggles her pelvis in case he had any doubts left regarding her mood. The hand abandons her breast and slides her panties off her bum. She helps him, and the knickers are now around her ankle. She tries to shake her leg to get rid of them but they seem stuck. And then his lips are on her nape. She turns slightly and peeks.

His eyes are still closed, a small smile on his lips. He is lovely. Pity she has to leave the warm circle of his arms. She pushes away from him. The Tufts Blue eyes fly open, and he lifts his head. She smiles at him and stretches to reach her dress on a chair near the bed. There are still two condoms in the pocket. Once he understands what she's doing he returns into the cocoon of the blanket.

She resumes her position and opens the package. He's kissing her neck at the back, his warm palm stroking her hip. She shuffles and blindly grabs his cock. His lips freeze on her skin. She rolls the condom on and then remembers whom she's dealing with. She guides him in, presses her pelvis back into him, and he groans. Then she takes his hand and gently leads it to her fanny. She puts it between her legs and he experimentally strokes her clit with his index finger. She pushes back, his cock sliding deeper into her.

She puts her fingers over his and breathes out, "Circular movements".

He nods and starts moving. He pushes slowly into her, his fingers gently circling her clit. Well, his rhythm's good. The endurance has already been tested. Let's see if his wife was right in her complaints and if he indeed doesn't lose control.