The Word Cloud

Warm.

That was my first thought as my mind slowly returned to consciousness. It was so comfortable here. I was wrapped in one of the blankets with a comfortable soft weight sprawled over me. Both of which were responsible for the warmth and for the first time in weeks I finally felt rested and peaceful.

I felt myself waking up slowly and enjoyed it. Then the weight on me shifted and my eyes opened to watch her, Madeline. She had, it seemed, tired to cover me completely with herself, one of her legs was thrown over both of mine, and one of her arms was slung equally haphazardly across my chest. The hand attached to the arm was resting against my chin. And somehow, she had managed to push us both to the left side of the bed and wedge us up against the wall. My own arm had not moved from her waist were it had settled last night. I smiled and closed my eyes shifting us both back towards the centre of the bed, then settled once again I yawned and tried to go back to sleep.

But my movement disturbed her.

She made a small sleepy happy sound and I felt her squirm, obviously waking slowly as I had moments before.

It has been far too long since I had woken with another in my bed, and having said girl squirm was not helping my situation in any sense. Thinking if I remained still she would go back to sleep I did not move, unfortunately my masterful plan failed miserably when she moved to sit on me and shook me vigorously.

“Vincent.” I could hear the smirk in her voice, and wondered why she was so happy so early, no one should be this happy this early. I opened my moth to tell her firmly to go back to sleep but all that came out was a groan.

“NNnnnnn Madi.” Not my most eloquent speech, but it made her go very still. I’m unsure if her stillness was caused by the fact I had groaned or if it was because she was remembering the affairs which had led to us waking like this.

She went still for a few moments and curiosity got the better of me, I cracked open an eye to watch her, only to find she was watching me from her new position in my lap. The look on her face was confused as if she didn’t quiet know what to do, or as if she was expecting me to ask her something.

I wanted to ask her something, something important. But I am a coward; I kept my silence and looked away.

My father once told me never to doubt myself. It was perhaps the only thing he ever said to me that I care to remember. He was talking to me about another of the local business owners. This man owned a slightly more fanciful restaurant than we did and had been given a large contract. A contract my father had wanted.

I had taken his words for jealous mumblings but he explained himself and his explanation forever stuck with me. He spoke of the contract he and this other man had been in competition for and had said how he easily met the criteria required. This other man apparently had more money than we did and a higher social standing but he was, at least in my father’s opinion, not as adequately skilled for the contract as my father would have been.

“The right man for the right job.” My father had said to me in the car, on the way home. “Never doubt yourself my son, but always ask yourself are you the right man for the job at hand?” his breath had reeked of alcohol -his consolation for not winning- but his words had been profound and ever since hearing them I always asked myself, was I the right man for this job.  I asked myself that question before any undertaking and almost always answered myself truthfully. Usually I was right.

I had asked myself this question many times concerning Madeline and each time i had gotten cold feet.

I wanted to marry her.

But was I the right man.

I leaned up and brushed my mouth across hers and let myself fall back to the bed, she followed me and her mouth closing over mine. I smirked into the kiss; I had meant the gesture only as one of comfort and had not expected such a pleasant reaction. Her short nails bit into my arms, I wrapped my arms around her, moulding her to me. She was supple and warm. I felt her trembling against me as I took control of the kiss, making small sounds of desperation, her demeanour changed ever so subtly in a manner I had only half been expecting. She shifted on top of me squirming against me, making a slightly louder and greatly more pleased sound when her hips moved lower coming into sharp contact with my own.

Her movements after that were slow and curious, her hands were soft and slowly gaining in assurance but still teasing. She found places that had since last night forgotten the feel of her soft hands; and in turn I made her shiver, my own hands lacking the shyness of hers.

“Vincent.” She smiled against my skin. I smirked back at her

“Yes?” I asked

“What do you want for breakfast?” she asked. I blinked at her for a moment before my smirk became a grin. I closed my eyes for a moment, and red throbbed behind the lids. It was . . . this was . . . perfect.

“Bacon.” I whispered,

“Me too.”

I loved her; maybe I would ask her over breakfast?