pretended i was sleeping.

so last night i pretended i was sleeping.

under the white, goose down comforter i brought for protection against nights like these, i found the warm spots my body made before it found it's way to the other side.

my left foot and toes made sheet angels as they moved side to side in hope of creating a comfortable warmth and drive the cold spot away. i gave up creating the heat source, and decided to crawl into a fetal position until i fell asleep, hoping i'd wake up in a bed as warm as the chai tea i drank fifteen minutes before.

i was sleep before the second episode of 'the golden girls.'

my hands met on the back side of the pillow, and my bed was empty when closed my eyes.
who owned the hand that applied tempting pressure on my knee?
i didn't move, nor did i open my eyes.
i lay there, still partly sleep, not knowing the day, hour, place and barely my own name.

'wake up!' i yelled at myself.

i pretended to wipe my eyes in a sleeping manner, and cracked them.
damn!

of all the fantasies to have
and all the dreams to cum to
this one could actually happen if i stayed still long enough for the hand to find it's way from my knee to dick hole in my new boxer briefs.

two days before this eye-cracking discovery, this dark-skinned cousin of a distant god and i flirted across a dinner table over a plate of sweet potatoes and fried oysters.
it was a potluck.

the obvious flirting stopped when i got my masters.
this flirting happened through the frequent 'ooohs' and 'ahhhhs' while we each explained our life goals at a table four other people also occupied.

'maybe we should link up. a lot of what you want to do really interests me, and i'd love to help you accomplish that,' he said, mixing more brown sugar into his sweet potatoes, while the others talked loudly about their excitement for the upcoming election year.

my body began jerking nervously.

how had he gotten in here?
why was he here at 4:00am?
what was his name again?

fuck all the answers, i figured.
i really didn't care.

what's going to happen now?

i remember his nails.
he handed me a basket of jiffy cornbread muffins, showing off his clean, self-manicured nails and fingers.
they were beautiful.
clearly a man's.
i licked my lips, hoping he'd think it was for the muffins.

now those fingers found their tips worming their way under the elasticity and fabic covering some of my thigh and i still hadn't moved.
my breathing changed.
the heaviness of it, i prayed, hadn't given me away.

i cracked my eyes again.

this gorgeous, six foot two inch man with the body of an olympian track star lay there with his eyes closed as though a dream had taken over his sleep.
his arm, although achieving a goal at the moment, looked relax - and the veins drove me crazy.

he wore a small white tank top and the rest of him was swallowed by the thick white blanket i now wished didn't exist.

i closed my eyes and remembered all the great parts of sharing a bed - all the beauty in finding warm spots in a cold room and cool spots in the summer - all the reasons i wanted this to happen days ago.

his hand found the part of me that, in my nervousness and numbness, had grown rock-like.

i opened my eyes and remembered all the reasons i wanted this to happen days ago and i moved in closed, finding the cool spot between us.
my arm was no longer behind the pillow and my hand was beneath his tank top moving to his breaths.

and as the air began to thicken between us, and the space it occupied grew smaller we both managed to whisper:

'hi'

our eyes shut.

the morning came, forgetting the sun
but brought with it a cool wind left no space between him and i

and we opened our eyes in the afternoon.

yeah...so last night i pretended i was sleeping.