He remembers her eyes. Greener than the grass in Summer and tinged with a
smile, wide and innocent. He can see them so vividly in his mind, as if
it was only yesterday that he saw them last. They are so unlike those
that belong to the woman next him. She has hard grey eyes, cold and
unfeeling eyes. So unlike those that he remembers, so sunny and full of
life. Looking at the woman next to him, her eyes lost in sleep, he
wonders how he has come to be with her. How has he ended up with
Mistress Grey and not that beautiful girl with emeralds for eyes?
He throws his legs over the side of the bed, leaning forward to pluck a stray slipper away from the cat's happy claws. The cat mews in protest, then, quickly growing bored, saunters off to the next adventure. He sits still, pondering his memories, swishing them inside slowly like a full wine. Twisting to look, again, at the woman, he feels a tinge of regret and revulvsion eclipse the passion that he felt only moments ago.
Of course, Mistress Grey is not ugly by any stretch of the word. She has a very soft mouth, small demure dimples, lusciously long eyelashes and dark red hair that pools about her waist as she sits. No, she is not ugly. Not even to him. Even now his body reacts to her prescence in his bed, even now he would willingly take her, but she is so unlike the one he wants right now, that he makes believe she is ugly.
He stands up, stretching and sighing as he makes his way to the bathroom. He stares at the face in the mirror, trying to make sense of what he sees. He is no longer a youth, nor is he ancient, caught in the middle of the two extremes. His brown curly hair is starting to thin now, his body is not quite as lean and supple. His blue eyes sweep over the five o'clock shadow encroaching upon his skin, he rubs a hand over the stubble as if that will make it disappear.
Again he thinks of a girl with green eyes, lost in the taste of her lips and her skin under his eager mouth. How long has it been since he saw her? 10 years? 15? No, it can't be that long, surely not. He peeks out the bathroom door, looking over at Mistress Grey. She has opened her eyes, the sheets pulled down below her breasts as she arches her body in a stretch. He caresses her with his gaze, drinking in her smooth creamy skin and every curve.
A wince for the thoughts that enter his mind, he was imagining her to be that long lost girl. He draws his head back into the bathroom and moves toward the shower. He turns on the water and paces as it warms. Steam curls around his body, a mixture of heat and perfume floats by his face. Stepping into the tub, he wonders if he ever really loved that girl with the green eyes. He convinces himself that he did not, that she was just a pleasant dream he once had. A fairy or a goddess created by his mind in a sleepy Eden.
Mistress Grey interrupts his thoughts as she climbs in behind him. She smells of sex and sweet dreams as she wraps her arms around his waist. He turns to face her, letting the water caress his spine. Those grey eyes are not nearly as cold and unfeeling as he imagined them to be. Not quite as sunny as that long gone girl, but warm and tender as they look up at him. He remembers why he fell in love with her, remembers how that other girl was lost and the one before him won.
He kisses her lips, gentle and sure, no longer distracted by the color green as warm water and gentle grey eyes wash away that girl's memory.
He throws his legs over the side of the bed, leaning forward to pluck a stray slipper away from the cat's happy claws. The cat mews in protest, then, quickly growing bored, saunters off to the next adventure. He sits still, pondering his memories, swishing them inside slowly like a full wine. Twisting to look, again, at the woman, he feels a tinge of regret and revulvsion eclipse the passion that he felt only moments ago.
Of course, Mistress Grey is not ugly by any stretch of the word. She has a very soft mouth, small demure dimples, lusciously long eyelashes and dark red hair that pools about her waist as she sits. No, she is not ugly. Not even to him. Even now his body reacts to her prescence in his bed, even now he would willingly take her, but she is so unlike the one he wants right now, that he makes believe she is ugly.
He stands up, stretching and sighing as he makes his way to the bathroom. He stares at the face in the mirror, trying to make sense of what he sees. He is no longer a youth, nor is he ancient, caught in the middle of the two extremes. His brown curly hair is starting to thin now, his body is not quite as lean and supple. His blue eyes sweep over the five o'clock shadow encroaching upon his skin, he rubs a hand over the stubble as if that will make it disappear.
Again he thinks of a girl with green eyes, lost in the taste of her lips and her skin under his eager mouth. How long has it been since he saw her? 10 years? 15? No, it can't be that long, surely not. He peeks out the bathroom door, looking over at Mistress Grey. She has opened her eyes, the sheets pulled down below her breasts as she arches her body in a stretch. He caresses her with his gaze, drinking in her smooth creamy skin and every curve.
A wince for the thoughts that enter his mind, he was imagining her to be that long lost girl. He draws his head back into the bathroom and moves toward the shower. He turns on the water and paces as it warms. Steam curls around his body, a mixture of heat and perfume floats by his face. Stepping into the tub, he wonders if he ever really loved that girl with the green eyes. He convinces himself that he did not, that she was just a pleasant dream he once had. A fairy or a goddess created by his mind in a sleepy Eden.
Mistress Grey interrupts his thoughts as she climbs in behind him. She smells of sex and sweet dreams as she wraps her arms around his waist. He turns to face her, letting the water caress his spine. Those grey eyes are not nearly as cold and unfeeling as he imagined them to be. Not quite as sunny as that long gone girl, but warm and tender as they look up at him. He remembers why he fell in love with her, remembers how that other girl was lost and the one before him won.
He kisses her lips, gentle and sure, no longer distracted by the color green as warm water and gentle grey eyes wash away that girl's memory.
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