Tuesday, June 23, 2009
by Steven Le
It was still dark when she woke, and her naked thigh had slipped outof the covers due to the warmth of the night. She moved it back,pulled the blanket to her chest and turned to gaze at the man on thefar wall. A finger of moonlight breached the curtains, illuminating anoaken desk with its glow, and finally highlighted the cheekbones ofthe man’s face. He was clanking away on a typewriter. She stared athim, longingly, trying to telegraph her euphoria to get his attention.
“Walt, come back to bed,” the woman said, as the blanket sloped downthe curve of her breast and exposed it. “Or turn on the light orsomething. Staring in the dark hurts your eyes. My sister justfinished her second year at Berkeley, she knows this kind of stuff.”
“I’m almost finished.”
“Really? Oh my, thats great! I thought you said you were only halfway? It doesn’t matter. Come when you’re done.” And the woman placedher arms underneath the blanket and slithered her legs around,shifting the silk sheets about her body. Her voice whimpered and herbody writhed.
“I can feel it,” Walt said. “A year of work, of heart, and then tofinally set it out there. It’s going to be great. I know it.‘Ingenious’ they’ll all say. Every one of them.”
“I’m sure they will,” the woman said and fell asleep.