His body was sleep warm as Deidre cuddled next to him spoon fashion. As she wrapped her arm around his lean waist, she splayed her fingers across his chest and felt the crisp, masculine hair there. She nestled next to his muscular, long legs and placed her face against his strong back and inhaled the overwhelming man scent of him. She could stay this way forever. He stirred next to her. With a low moan, Dylan rolled onto his back and placed his arm around her shoulders. His warm hand searched for and found her breast. He kissed the top of her head sweetly as he fondled and caressed her, eliciting a delighted gasp from her. He stretched his legs and drew her closer to him. His voice was sensuous and low as he murmured, "Oh, baby. I love to wake up to you."
Deidre reached for his awakened masculinity. It confirmed what she already knew. His desire was sure and strong, and crying out for her. She giggled quietly, "I know. I can tell." She could feel his breath stir her hair and turned her face to join her lips with his. His lips were hot and smooth as his tongue probed and sought entrance to her mouth. She gave herself to the kiss as he plundered the inner recesses of her soul, their tongues joining in passion.
Dylan's hands were sure and swift as he slid her silk teddy down her body, freeing her breasts. She gasped as his mouth captured her nipple. And...
"Shit!" Deidre spat out the word as if by doing so it would bring the dream back. She stared at the ceiling in the darkened room. Wait! It wasn't supposed to be like this!
As she sat on the side of the bed hot tears of misery formed in her eyes and coursed down her cheeks. Slipping her feet into the worn fuzzy pink house shoes beside the bed, she shuffled toward the bathroom.
She flipped on the overhead light and stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Yes, the face staring back at her was the same. Deep furrowed wrinkles pinched her skin. Her mouth, once sensuous and full, was a crooked, unhappy line breaking her face. The eyes were the worst. Staring back at her were the pale blue eyes of an old, used-up woman. Eyes that once held promises for tomorrow that once were bright with an excited light from within--were now dead. As dead as if she were no longer breathing. She shook her head sadly and tried to smooth the wild gray hair surrounding her face.
Her voice cracked with emotion as she spoke to the woman in the mirror, "Deidre, old gal, we gotta take more this time." She reached for the mug she kept by the sink, emblazoned with bright red lips and the saying, Almost Famous, and filled it with water. Smiling, she flipped off the light and shuffled back to the bed. Dylan had given her the mug, she would go back to him.
She sat on the side of the bed and reached for the pills the little men had given her. At first she hadn't believed them when they'd told her she could go back. Hell, she hadn't believed her eyes when they first approached her--had known she'd surely gone mad the first time she'd awakened and seen them standing in her bedroom with their small white bodies, large white heads and huge black eyes.
Why would they pick her of all people? Why would they just show up in her bedroom and offer her youth? Could it have been that they were actually a compassionate species here to give her another chance to be with her beloved Dylan? Her one and only true love she'd lost so tragically? After they explained telepathically the sadness they'd felt as they watched her hold him in her arms as the life left his body, she had understood.
Drawn by the possibility of being with Dylan again, she'd taken the pills. Each night she'd slept and dreamed of Dylan. But the dreams were as real as if she were really there with him. But she was getting low on pills and was afraid of running out, so she'd cut her sleep short tonight. But she could fix that. Six bright red pills rolled out into her wrinkled hand as she tipped the bottle upside down. Normally, it only took two to send her into Dylan's arms--tonight she'd take them all. She'd stay in Dylan's arms forever. Swallowing one pill at a time, her hopes grew. Not long now and she'd be in his arms again. Dizzily, Deidre reached for the nightstand to put away the pill bottle and mug, but they fell from her hands onto the floor with a clatter.
As she lay on the bed and closed her eyes, she smiled as she saw Dylan walking toward her. He smiled and lay beside her.
"Where you been, baby, I was about to start without you!"
They both giggled and kissed--the kiss bringing promises for their tomorrows -- together forever.
Fran is an avid reader and writer of romance. Stories plague her until she gets them down on paper. Her characters take on a life of their own. It is her greatest desire to be a published author in the romance field.
She has a short story, "The Grin," which will be published in The Romantic Bower in the near future. She has completed two romance novels, one of which is being considered for publication. She has seen two poems published; "Coping" in Before the Dawn Comes; "Thank You, Lord," in Treasured Poems of America-Summer 1998.
Articles that have been published in the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal include: "Home Decorating: It’s All A Matter Of Style" and "Surprise Your Friends & Family With Gifts For The Home." In her ‘day job,’ she is an Interior Designer. But in her ‘spare time,’ she is a Contributing Editor for Suite 101 - Women Over 50; and as Senior Editor for Dark Star Publications [formerly Twilight Times Books], she helps writers who are embarking on the wonderful new world of e-books.