Burdened eyes.
Closed Doors.
The smell of pine-sol, oak wood and charcoal wafts through the air of the winter cabin. A bleeding white view of the snow capped mountains and rolling hills take form outside his bedroom window as the sun rose reflecting its heavy rays into his dimly lit room. He sat up in his bed, staring at his unfamiliar furniture. Straining his eyes to remain open. Sounds of scrubbing and feet shuffling. Up he rose in a hurry as flashes of thoughts sprung to his mind. His eyes wide with worry. Rushing down the stairs to see the freshly cleaned floors shimmering in the white sun light. “Good morning, sleepy” a voice rang out from around the corner followed by the slender silhouette of a woman. Slowly moving into the light as she unwraps her curly black hair, her silky peanut butter skin bathing in the morning sun.
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She stands tall and full gazing at his bed. His body sprawled wildly, smelling of death and whiskey. She saunters to his bedside, hovering over his now exposed body listening to his long, heavy breaths. Her heart racing faster as her lips meet the top of his head pausing among her heated breath. “Sleep dear, I’ll take care of everything,” she whispers into her punch drunk deafened ears.
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“Who are you?!” he says, still trying to find his mind. She smiles and moves closer. “I’m your driver from last night don’t you remember?” He stands waiting for her to continue, unsure of what to believe as he still processes the clamoring headache he harbors from his rough night. “It was below freezing and a horrible blizzard was coming, so you invited me to stay in your place until the morning.”
He begins to piece together fragmented images of the riddle from last night. Stumbling out of a party, saying his goodbyes as he fumbled into a car pulling up in front of him. He looks at the driver and sees her wily smile and beautiful natural hair. As they drive through the snow her car sputters to the top of the hill where he stays and he says, “I know you don’t know me but it’s too dangerous a night for you to drive downhill in this car. I hear there’s a storm coming so you’re welcome to stay in the guest room until it clears up in the morning.” She hesitates but realizes he’s right and accepts the invite.
He leads her inside and takes her coat. Her hair the smell of lavender and skin of cocoa butter. He lingered a moment taking her in, holding back the ravenous lust inside. “Would you have a drink with me?” he says as he pours himself a glass of bourbon. She smiles, yes, as she explores the high blue walls of the living room filled with huge art pieces of several shades of grays and blues. Sculptures of sensual moments between a woman and a man hidden among the dimly lit room where she wanders as he approaches her from behind and offers his hand. “I thought you wanted to drink,” she says, staring into his deep brown eyes. “Yes, I want to drink you” he commands as he dips his head into her neck sucking her scent into his lips, caressing her hips, rolling his arms around her spine protruding from his primal thoughts. She pushes him with all of her force sending him to the high blue wall, pausing for a moment before thrusting her body onto his. Bouncing along the walls knocking paintings and furniture onto the floors like tornado mid storm.
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“Ah, I remember now. I’m sorry if I got a little rough.” He says as he heads to the kitchen. He opens a cabinet door and picks up a small black box and puts it on the table. Opening it, he takes out his wedding ring and says while putting it on, “Shall I make some breakfast?” He asks as he hands her ring to her. “I’ll clean up later.” he says. “It’s all taken care of dear.” She smiles to her husband.
- Jamal R. Henderson