One Last Time Again, Part 3

You release me so that we can open the car door. I look at you, unsure what to do now. You cover my head with your hand and duck me backwards into the car. I am distracted by not falling over and my brain realises what is going on, what we might be about to do. For the first time, I wonder what will happen when this is over, if you will be gone again and I will be left with the sorrow that has consumed me since you went, how I will cope if this is the last time again. I break into a sob and you look at me with concern. I scrunch up into a ball against the far door and you climb into the car and shut the door behind you. Sound from the outside world is shut out; no more breeze stirring the trees, no more noise from the cars on the road outside the car park. The sudden stillness is jarring. I am aware of my clothes, rustling as I breathe in and out, the squeak of the seats beneath us as we sit awkwardly, looking at each other. You shuffle towards me and I look away, tears squeezing from between slitted eyes, too afraid to see that you are here when soon you will be gone again. You touch my face gently but I daren't move.

“I can't,” I whisper. I fall still, the effort of balling up too much after the exertion of the run. You place your hands on my thighs, pull my knees out, climb onto me and straddle my legs. You try and bend your knees up but you get your foot stuck between the front and back seats and I smile as you try and free yourself. The backseat is far too small for the both of us. Finally, with your back braced against the front seat, you are sitting on top of me, your knees bent awkwardly to either side. Your weight on me feels familiar, secure, comforting. My body is in the last remnants of arousal, practicality pushing it to one side, so I'm only tingling a little. I feel numb. I feel... thirsty.

You place one hand behind my head and pull me towards you and kiss me, your other hand cupping the small of my back towards you, our bodies melting into each other as if we were made that way. I try not to lose myself in the kiss but the memories of the times that we've done this before overwhelm me and I remember, with pain and exhilaration, how you would kiss me like this when I was upset, before tenderly making love to me until I forgot myself in the perfection of our union. I'm still crying, tears rolling silently down my cheeks. I'm tired and I still don't think I can cope with you being here, but I want to forgot about me, I want to know you again, I want to remember how you loved me, want to experience it again...

My fingers creep under your shirt, feel the softness of your hips, move upwards to your chest and remember how your chest hair curls around my fingers. Your body is firm to the touch with the slightest give, a small, soft layer of fat which makes you just that little bit less than perfect to everyone else, but which I am so familiar with that it is totally mine, so wonderfully, unmistakably mine. Your hand is under my shirt at my back, stroking the base of my spine, caressing and soothing. Without realising, I sink into the kiss, no longer thinking about anything but the sweetness of the moment. You pull away suddenly and the moment is broken abruptly. I feel lost. I look at you; your face is creased in pain.

“I've got cramp in my knees,” you say. We laugh and try to shuffle about to find a better position, but the urgency of the moment suddenly seems lost. Now I am just relieved to see you, to have you here. I smile at you for a while, not thinking about what will happen later, just wondering what we're doing now. “Do you want to come over?” you ask gingerly. I nod. We climb out of the back of the car and I slide into the drivers seat, turn the engine on, pull out of the car park. We don't talk much on the way to your place. I'm not sure what to say. Neither of us seems to know why we're here, how or why we've been drawn back together at this moment.

Posted in: onelasttime,writing