Memory's Domain

Infidelity by mneysome

He had been crying in his sleep again. The hot summer night chilled as she woke from her own dreamless sleep to his wordless cries. The sweat on her naked back evaporated, and she shivered. The blankets of their bed were gone, kicked in the night to their feet. He still lay asleep, shivering, his back toward her. She tried to calm him, his tearless cries splitting the silence of that hot June night. Eventually he calmed, settling back, making no sounds, no expression on his face. She settled there, neck to his, her arms wrapped around him, spoon fashion. She lay her head down on her pillow, trying to sleep, no avail. As she stayed awake she heard the monotonous tick of the clock. She stroked his head, admiring his dark wavy hair, black in the darkness. He did nothing, just lay there, gone. It was Her. She knew of course. Her predecessor, the former girl who had lain in this bed, had felt the touch of this man's hands, hot on her skin, hot on her lips. She felt her, at times. Times like this. He had never said anything about her. She had known her from stories, told by his family. Stories of how he would always smiled in his sleep. They never said anything directly, just looked her over, their eyes sliding away, as if staring at someone else, as they told them. And nights, these hot summer nights, when the girl came. She felt her, even now, felt her cool arms curled protectively, possesively around him. The nights like these, when she could almost hear a voice, a low voice, speaking to her.
{why are you here?} it would say, cold and cool.

{ what do you give him?} and a chill breeze washes over her, like a mocking caress. Over her thighs and belly, over her breasts. Sometimes the voice would be silent, and only the cold presence would remain. Those nights he would turn away completely, as if to the other in the bed, Her, inexorably her. She hated her. It was her that made him smile in his sleep, the rare nights that the girl was there, always in the hottest of summer nights, when his slick sweat and his musty tang called her from her devil's cave.

{How did you meet him?} the voice would say, curiosity in the tone. She had met him at a club. No, at a bar. He had gone around, it must have three in the morning, asking for a possible ride. She had looked at him, seeing the pain in his eyes that the quantity of alcohol had failed to dull, and so she took him home. He had woken up , on her couch, the hangover a dark vertical line between his eyebrows. He would make it up to her he had said, took her to dinner, a thank you. He started coming over. He was a brilliant conversationalist. She was taken to movies, and restaraunts, and cool, silver, moonlit beaches. And later, she was taken to bed. His lovemaking was warm and passionate. His mouth was hungry, but soft. His hands were hot and wandering. She loved the contact, the way he would stroke her skin, saying she was beautiful, was special. She loved the way he held her, the way he used to hold her, his arms wrapped tight over her breasts. No longer. {Does he love you?} The voice seemed to muse. This was followed by a husky chuckle., the breeze rufflews his hair, caresses his face, runs over his body. He shivers. The voice quiets at this point, and the man in the bed turns away to the other girl in his bed.

Three years have passed, and since the first summer she has felt the girl's presence in their bed. She lays there on the pillow staring at him, feeling her there. She raises her head slowly off the pillow to look at the dark blob across the room. The blob is a desk, his desk. A pandora's box, she thinks, containing the file. She still remembers the dark ,almost black hair, the deep grey eyes, piercing, unholy eyes. The ending page of the file,a disapperance, murder suspected, away and away, in time and space. No body found. Three months before she had met him; the man curled up, unwittingly, unwillingly in her living arms. She could feel her, in the bed, her cold white limbs holding him to her, as he sleeps like a baby. Smiling in his sleep. Happy in Her embrace.

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page