Hope you find some meaning in it and if not at least a bit of joy from it.
Let me know if you do.
.........
I attempt to lift my weighted eyelids.
My strained and irregular sleep pattern is further interrupted.
Not a mosquito, but seems no less persistent.
It is on my lip.
Nibbling.
Insistently.
Pushing forward wanting me to open my mouth.
I strain my eyes to no avail.
Instead I raise my hand.
SLAP!
UGHH! Owwwww!
A rising whimper.
My hand hasn't hit a lightweight mosquito,
but rather has made contact with something slightly larger.
Actually a whole lot larger, but softer and warmer.
I pull myself upright, but I am pushed back down by a slumping dead weight.
My eyes now shoot open and I shake my head.
“Ohhh, damn it!
Jesus! Doll, are you okay? I am so sorry! I had no idea.”
There is no answer, but for the increasing whimpers, as a net of hair and wetness covers my bare chest. Her head resting against me, rising up and falling, but not quite in rhythm with my breathing.
“Doll? Doll? Are you okay? Look at me.”
She does not move up, but instead reaches her arms between my back and the warm sheets and squeezes tight.
“Are you okay?!”
“I…I’m…I…I just wanted…I just wanted to wake you up with kisses,” she mumbles hesitantly, choking back sobs.
“But Sweet, you know better than to wake me unexpectedly” I remind her trying to lift her head, but left without an easy grip. I am desperate to see the unintentional damage my hand has done. “Let me see.”
“I am fine," she whispers and I can feel her extended eyelashes slide shut across my chest, “I just need to be close to you right now.”
“Please. I need to see if you are okay.” I insist.
She raises her head and turns, a cascade of tangled hair covers her face as she props herself upon her elbows. She blows out, a small jet-stream of warm air intended to send her hair away from her mouth.
Reaching forward, I stroke her soft, moist tussled hair out-of-the-way and reveal damaged beauty. Her cheek is visibly red and I swear I can see the throbbing.
“Open your eyes; look at me” I command further yet gently.
Her left eye twitches open under the combined weight of heavy mascara and tears. She attempts to smile with pursed lips and her ever radiant eyes. I am relieved that I do not see blood at her mouth nor signs of bruising anywhere, anywhere on her face.
“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to….” And as soon as I begin she has cut me off with a raised gentle cold finger against my lips.
“Shhhh….” she responds. “Shhh. No. You are fine.”
She delivers a sloppy wet kiss to my lips before turning her head just as abruptly towards the distance; across the room and out the window towards a world that doesn't understand.
“I… I wanted. I wanted to say,” she begins slowly than rambles on, “Thatt. That I'm ss...I'm sorry for last night. I am sorry I upset you. For everything...That you had to…”
I look at her confused, thinking it is I that should be apologizing. She knows I am questioning.
“This was an accident, yesterday was all my fault.”
“But I didn’t mean to be so hard on you. But you pushed and I was at…”
She pushes her dainty, witch-like, magical finger against my lips once more.
“I am glad you did that last night.”
With that she has pushed herself off me completely, rising like an escaping spirit ready to ascend into the heavens, but instead merely stalks across the uneven terrain of sheets and blankets. She slowly stretches legs over the edge of the bed, her chest now resting against the mound of bed coverings as her head slumps down into them. Without looking at me she cooes into the silence of the room. “Whenever you are ready. I need to feel close to you.”
“But…but aren’t you sore? I’m sor…” I ask remembering her thrashing from the night before.
“Shhh. Of course I am.
I accept your apology about my face; but don’t ever apologize for spanking me.”
..................
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