Femme Fatale

Chapter 1: Reunion

“I stared at her through the parting in the bathroom door. She was brushing her beautiful, mid-back length hair into the grasp of her hand as she stared into her fogged expression in the mirror. The amount of concentration she put into pulling each strand of her hair into her hand was noted. After tying her hair in a ponytail, she picked up her electric toothbrush. Why it was so fascinating to watch her brush her teeth? I don’t know actually, but I continued to stare.

As the steam from her morning shower began to condense, she became aware of me staring in the reflection of the mirror. The buzzing of her toothbrush had stopped and now it was silence again. She spit her residual toothpaste into the sink and wiped her mouth clean. Walking up to the bathroom door, she grabbed the handle, and pulled the door wide open.

She stood there in her stonewashed jeans and baggy white t-shirt. Her black ponytail swept the air with each step of her stride towards me. Her smirk mirrored on my face. I love how I get to wake up every morning to see my beautiful wife. She stopped at the side of the bed, next to me, while I gazed into her eyes. She lifted a finger and pointed at the laptop on my lap. Okay, I think it’s time to stop writing.”

She pushed the laptop off of my lap and took its place instead. She took my face into her hands and gave me a “minty fresh” good morning kiss. I slinked my arms around her waist and groaned when she pulled away.

“Ahhh, it was just getting good Claire.” I complained. She squished my cheeks up, forcing me to pout, and shook my head left and right.

“No offense, but you need to brush your teeth.” She let go of my face and smacked my cheek lightly before jumping off of my lap and onto the bed.

“Really, do I?” I mocked.

Struggling to hold back her laugh, she nodded up and down slowly. I raised an eyebrow before tackling her. She fell backwards onto the bed and started thriving and kicking in an attempt to free herself from my grasp. She was screaming and laughing as I tickled everywhere on her torso. I attempted to breathe my “bad breath” in her face but she was turning her head left and right to avoid me. Because we were rolling around, we ended up getting tangled in the comforter. We were having so much fun until we heard the sound of my laptop toppling off of the bed and crashing onto the floor. We pushed our way out of the comforter and pulled ourselves to the edge of the bed with our heads hanging off the edge. The laptop was sitting upright and still looked to be in working order. My Wife, Claire, burst into laughter.

“Y’know, watching someone through a door tying her ‘mid-back length hair into the grasp of her hand’ seems like a stalker. Should I call the police?” she asked. I chuckled and looked down, embarrassed.

“Husbands are allowed, I hope? Besides, I love writing about you; whether it’s about your hair, or the spit stain on your face.” I traced a finger from the corner of my mouth down to my chin and started laughing. She gasped and pushed my hand away from my face. I countered by grabbing her hand and inched my way closer to her face.

Leaning in, I was inches away from her lips, when a sound came from my laptop. I just love being interrupted. I sighed and Claire mouthed the words “too bad” before pulling her hand from mine and jumping off of the bed.

“It’s time to get out of bed, Neal. I’ve got an art class to teach. I’ll head to the kitchen first to make breakfast, meet me there in 10?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Her tilted head was angled perfectly with the awakening sun, pouring through the –“I started.

“OH SHUTUP! Put it in your next book!” she laughed. “Meet me downstairs, okay Neal?”