Another War Lost

Rated: K

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She sat on the solid counter in the well sized bathroom that was nestled between their two bedrooms, her legs dangling off the side as she swung them back and forth like an antsy child, her nails freshly painted with the latest trending shade of red. She was in only her nightgown now, darkness having bled into the sunlight of another day. They had already taken a large bite out of the night since her lover tended to stay up until the wee hours of the morning before he finally decided he was tired enough to sleep. She didn’t always accompany him as far into the night as he ventured, but she tried to take advantage of the occasions he was home as best she could, especially if she thought he might be in a good mood.

She knew the moment he walked in the door whether they would spend most of their time in the presence of others and the small amount of alone time they would have simply resting, being happy and comfortable to be with one another again; or if they would spend most afternoons taking suspicious-though never verbally questioned-“naps” only a few hours after he had risen, and retiring to bed earlier than he usually did during the evenings.

It was not a typical good mood she looked for. She sought out the good, good mood. The mood that translated to her that he was not only up for, but expecting sex. Something she was always more than willing to deliver. He was gone so much after all and she was usually highly wound up and in a desperate state of need when he dropped by, like he knew when she was squirming for his return, no matter the distance between them.

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