Page 91 - Interior_SPRING SUMMER FALLING_2021

SPRING SUMME R FALLING | 91

I throw off my clothes and pull on some pajama pants. I want to shower, but I
cannot risk being anywhere near Sanya while naked. Not while she was drunk. I guess
she is in an eighties mood because she is putting my name in the songs.

Of course, she would sing a song from Divinyls about touching herself while
thinking of me in the shower; she has to touch herself to bathe.
She reappears in nothing but a tank and panties. She is now singing “Mickey” or
shall I say, “Henry” as she claps to the beat.
I chuckle despite the terrible situation. I’d previously wished she would say these
things to me, but I wasn’t specific enough to include “while sober.”
I pat the bed. “Come on, let’s get some rest.” She pouts prettily.

“You don’t want to fool around?” She has no idea how much I want her. “You’re
drunk, darling.” She climbs onto the bed.
“You did it again.” I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Did what?” She settles in next to me. The scent of her drives me crazy. “Not
answer a direct question. Do you want to fool around or naw?”
I turn to her and prop my head up one my hand. “Ask me when you’re sober.”

She growls and pulls the cover over her head. I am torn between being amused and
frustrated. I want to have this conversation with her. Just not at 4 AM while she’s still
intoxicated.
“Sanya, sweetie.” She pulls the cover down enough for me to see her eyes. “I’m not
avoiding your question. I’d just rather talk about it while we’re sober. If you remember
this conversation tomorrow and still want to ask me, I’ll give you an honest answer.
Deal?”
“I want to sit on your face.” It is my turn to growl. I tuck her in tightly, so she
cannot move and turn off the lamp.

“Goodnight, Sanya.” She is sleep before I get comfortable.
I am awakened about thirty minutes later. I feel pressure on my chest. My eyes pop
open, and I am able to make out Sanya’s form moving over my body. I lie perfectly still
because I don’t want to startle her. She straddles me and lays her head on my chest.
“What are you doing?” I whisper. “Body pillow,” she murmurs half-sleep.
Sanya shifts her body to try to get comfortable. Her movements aren’t sexual, but
I’m turned on. I was wrong before – tiredness is not the only reason for a grown man
to cry baby tears -sexual frustration is also a high-ranking reason.