We are sitting on the sofa, talking pleasantly about matters both important and inconsequential. I have made a joke and turn modestly away as she laughs while the next conversational topics are filtered and tested in my head. In the back of mind is the sorry Sunday knowledge that soon I must leave her delightful company to return to the chaos of Linhope and beyond that the pressure of another working week.
Conversational gambit selected, I turn back to face her, and in a movement reminiscent of a cat's pounce J, funny, beautiful, wonderful J, has closed the distance between our lips with a swift bound across the cushions. I see a flash of her red t-shirt and light blue jeans and then am enveloped in face, hair, arms, lips. We kiss.
At a pause in our embrace I look her in the eye, she arches a delicate eyebrow in response and says "you were about to leave, I wanted to make the most of your being here."
I have never felt so wanted.
