I woke up that night, early in the morning. Too early for anyone else to be up, and so I decided to take a walk. I decided not to get dressed, as it was warm and I am lazy, so instead wandered downstairs in my nightdress. I opened the door to the patio, and there, directly in front of me, he sat on the steps down to the garden, moonlight shinning onto his beautiful face, silver smoke creeping from his lips. He turned at the noise, and looked up at me without saying anything. I walked steadily over to where he was sitting, and slowly sat on the step next to him. He said nothing, but turned to look out across the garden, taking another drag from his cigarette. I felt his eyes watching me, scouring my underdressed body, watching me shiver. He flicked the burning stub across the grass, and I watched the glow die in the damp. After a second he shifted his body, sliding himself closer to me. So close that I could feel the heat from his legs shimmering through the air onto mine. He took his jacket from beside his feet and wrapped it around my legs. I sat in silence as he did it, looking at his eyes, waiting for him to look at me. But instead, he reached into his pocket to pull out another cigarette. He lit it, and turned to look back out at the garden. I said nothing, and looked at the floor, shifting my feet. Once he’d finished, he stubbed it out on the floor, and looked towards me. I didn’t look up, but I could feel his eyes trace the features of my face. He lifted his hand, and slowly stroked my cheek with the backs of his fingers. I said nothing, just looked at the floor, trembling at his touch. He put his arm around my shoulders, and pulled me closer to him. I let myself go, and lent into his chest, smiling as I inhaled his sweet smell of smoke and hair products.
I couldn’t sleep, so got up for a smoke. I hadn’t changed that day, so just grabbed my leather jacket from the chair, and let myself out. The air was crisp, but reasonably warm, so I threw my jacket down on the steps, then sat down next to it. Reaching into my jean pocket I pulled out the tin holding the fags I’d rolled earlier, and my zippo lighter. I lit one up, inhaling deeply, closing my eyes. These people, they live in such a ridiculously big house. Servants, cooks, gardeners? If you need help looking after your house, you shouldn’t have it. That’s what I think. My boss is a douche. His daughter though, she didn’t look half bad. Actually, she looked pretty stunning. But, that’s no good. If she’s anything like her father, I want nothing to do with it. I couldn’t help thinking, there’s something about her. Her big brown eyes filled with so much passion gave me hope that maybe she wasn’t like him. Her fathers eyes seemed dead. There was nothing but hate in them. It was at that thought that I heard the door open behind me. I pulled on my lip ring, nervous that I was going to get in trouble. I didn’t know if I was allowed to smoke, or even if I was allowed to be out here, but doing things that might get you in trouble is half the fun of life. It was only the bosses daughter, watching me quietly from the doorway. She was more beautiful than I remembered, especially in the silver moonlight; it made her face shine. She walked slowly over to where I sat, not saying a word, and barely breathing by the looks of it. I looked out across the garden again, trying to get my bearings. Why was she here? I decided not to ask. I could see her, out of the corner of my eye, and so watched her. She first looked at me, and then turned to look at the floor, chewing on the corner of her lip. I looked across her shivering body, her skimpy nightdress exposing long silver legs. I finished my cigarette, flicking the butt across the garden into the wet grass. She looked so cold, I grabbed my jacket and wrapped it around her legs, moving closer to her. I wanted to say something to her, tell her how amazing she looked, tell her how glad I was that she was there, despite usually hating company. But I couldn’t. My nerves wouldn’t let me, so I instead lit up another fag, waiting for my heart rate to lower, waiting to be able to say something to her. Eventually I couldn’t stand it any longer, and, after stubbing out my cigarette, I reached out to her. I wanted to pull her face around, to kiss her face and look into her eyes, but something about her stopped me. Instead, I ended up gently stroking her face, my hands shaking terribly, although she didn’t seem to notice. Hardly breathing, I snaked my arm around her, and pulled her close. My heart was beating against her head, and I could see her hair moving as I breathed against her. I felt her smile against me, and rested my head against hers, shutting my eyes and smiling with her.
. . . . .
I woke a little earlier than usual. I was hotter than normal, which was probably what had woken me. I turned my head on the pillow to watch him sleeping peacefully. His face was so emotionless, so perfectly beautiful, I could hardly stand it. I slid closer to him, and snaked my arms around his chest. A slight smile played across his lips, and he shifted in his sleep to be closer to me. I rested my head on his shoulder, and gently traced his profile with my fingertips. They rested for a second on his lips, then I put my hand back on his chest, so as not to wake him. I could feel his heartbeat pulsing under my fingers, and it wasn’t long before his calm breathing sent me back to sleep, his face against mine, our lips only centimeters apart.
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