“Yes,” Andrew breathed.
Ray smiled and they exchanged numbers.
Andrew hesitated for a moment before he linked his fingers into Ray’s.
“I’ll see you soon. I’ll call you.”
All Ray could do was nod, in a daze, as he watched Andrew walk away.
A whistle brought him out of his daydreams. Lola. Their greeting.
“Where did you go?” Lola came up to him, linking her arm through his. They began their walk over to the cab they were sharing. She turned to him in the streetlamp light. “You sure look happy.”
Ray hummed and updated her on his evening.
Lola gasped, squeezing him closer. “About time!”
Ray chuckled. “I know, I’ve been waiting fifteen years for him.”
This Moment by Mags Hayward
Lying awake, I listen to the gentle stirrings of a new day: bird song, the raucous call of a passing crow, a woodpigeon’s fervent cooing. The central heating pipes twang softly into life, the metallic tap-tap playing a staccato rhythm, syncopated against a blackbird’s intricate, floating melody. Peeping around the curtains, I find the pale light of dawn has chased away the night, and a pink and peach shimmer on the horizon heralds the approaching sun. But it’s not morning yet…
Letting the curtain fall, I roll over, and a smile tugs at my lips as my gaze lands upon a wondrous sight—you. I rub my eyes, disbelieving what I’m seeing, but your image doesn’t fade. You’re here, beside me, deep in slumber with a look of contentment on your beautiful freckle-nosed face.
Carefully, gently, I kiss your bare shoulder. I’ve no wish to wake you, but I need to check that it’s you who lies dreaming, not me. You feel real, your flesh soft and warm. I hold my breath as you stir, turn, auburn locks tumbling over your eyes and splaying across the pillow like tongues of fire. You murmur, and your eyelids flutter momentarily. Your hand flexes…but sleep has you safely wrapped in its arms and doesn’t let go. Sighing softly, you roll away from me.
Propped on one elbow, I watch you breathe. I’m mesmerised by the steady rise and fall of your naked flesh and the gentle hiss of each escaping breath. Your skin’s flushed above your breasts, and, still asleep, you scratch your shoulder where your hair tickles. Leaning closer, I inhale your sweet aroma, savouring the subtle muskiness that mingles with the delicate floral notes of your perfume.
You’re here. I still can’t believe it. I’ve waited so long for this moment.
Lightheaded, my heart drums against my ribcage, thefrantic rhythm at odds with the peaceful scene. Being with you is astonishing, magical—so much better than my imagination had conjured. The devil’s in the details, and our texts, emails, and calls, although explicit, never mentioned those tiny, yet powerfully erotic moments that had punctuated last night’s lovemaking: your soft, throaty moans when we lay skin-on-skin, the way you snaked your spine when I nuzzled the nape of your neck. Your delightful, shimmying quiver when my fingernails grazed your nipples, and my own wide-eyed gape reflected in your eyes as you parted your thighs.
Words are incomparable to actions. You could never have described how your breath on my cheek would send a million tingles rippling across my scalp, or how a single kiss would ignite an inferno in my core and send my mind spinning. I didn’t know the passion we’d shared remotely could be amplified tenfold by real-world interaction. I couldn’t comprehend how holding you would make me feel complete.
I do now. Snuggling against your back, I slide an arm around your waist. You shift position and take my hand, our fingers linked. Exhaling, I let my eyelids close. From the moment I fell for you, I dreamed we’d lie together this way, willed us to overcome the issues of distance and responsibility, and make it happen. But fate hurled obstacles in our path like we’d incited a vendetta, until I resigned myself to adoring you from afar with no expectation of a physical union.
Yet, it happened. And you’re worth every moment of doubt, all the teary cancellations, postponements, and the bitter disappointment when our pathsalmostcrossed. Together at last, the sight of your warm smile and gorgeous, curvaceous body—here, not on a screen—took my breath away, and I trembled when we explored each other with hands and lips, not just words that promised more.
Words are all we’d exchanged before last night. Wordsthat began as a trickle of typed comments to a stranger with a kindred soul, and swelled into a torrent of love, with messages bouncing rapidly back and forth. Words that were heartfelt but constrained. It’s hard to express your feelings adequately when you can’t type fast enough or struggle to translate sentiment into suitably emotive adjectives. And the video calls that followed, intended to free our voices and add enticing visuals, often ended in frustration.
Face-to-face in person is different.Sodifferent. Last night, we unleashed desire in its basest form, no translation required and no holding back. We spoke the spontaneous language of physical fondling, kissing, and writhing. Years of dissatisfaction melted away in a sheet-twisting frenzy of entangled limbs, groans, and squeals, the lusty profanities pouring from our mouths a byproduct of our passion, not a means to stir it. We finally achieved satisfaction; the missing piece of the puzzle dropped smoothly into place.
It’s getting lighter in the bedroom. Daylight creeps around the curtains, casting shadows across the room. It will soon be time to wake you, but not yet. Time can stand still a little longer. I kiss your back, butterfly kisses tracing your spine, then pull the heavy duvet higher, covering us both with downy warmth. A few more hours safe in our cocoon. A few more hours without thinking, what happens next? Now is what counts—no questions, no doubts. This moment right here…Just you, just us.
A Lift in Life by Pelaam
Tom entered the tall building that housed his company, along with a myriad of others. As he did every day, he tried to make the effort to avoid looking like he was walking into the seventh circle of hell. Even though that’s how he felt. Crossing the foyer, he focused on the lift ahead.
Most people didn’t greet old George, the lift operator, but for those who did, the man always had a bright smile and a positive word. But as the doors opened to take the next few passengers up to their respective floors, Tom felt his jaw hit the floor. Whoever the man was, it wasn’t George. He was tall, solidly built, with close cropped silver-gray hair.
Fuck me, he’s sex on legs.
“Goingup?” The man smirked.
Tom blinked, frozen in place as he stared into tawny eyes that glittered with amusement.
“Uh…” Tom inwardly winced. He could hardly have made a worse impression.
