The Catch Up

It'd be nice. A little catch up before Christmas and family pulled us in all
directions. A dozen exchanges on Facebook, with vague promises to do so, and
then work, always work stepping in, and her looking after her mum.

I tweaked the hot water tap and stepped into the shower. Must remember to buy
shower cleaner.

Maybe a movie? God, when did I last see a movie?

Bloody hell, girl, you need to get out more.

A wave as we passed each other on the road a few towns over; each zipping to the
next shift or appointment. Always seem to see her in silhouette, framed by the
car window.

The water sluiced down my body, and I followed it with a critical pass of my
soapy hand. Stop eating, just bake the shortbreads and pass them on to the
family.

It'd be nice to lie next to someone for a bit. Kneading my right breast, my wet
hair plastered over my face, I thought back, and hoped.
I ran my other hand over my bum. She quite liked my bum. And didn't run when I
mentioned what I fancied. Was quite keen, actually, her smaller hand making its
way eagerly from my front to the back as she wriggled and giggled me over her
lap on the futon.

Turning off the tap, I fumbled past the curtain for a towel, and smiled.

Yeah, it'd be nice.