The Crisp Air of Morning

He heard morning sounds.

As a game, he kept his eyes closed, trying to guess what she was doing. Staying very still, he listened carefully, occasionally smiling when he guessed correctly. When the sounds paused for a few moments, he guessed what she was wearing, and then opened his eyes.

Black bra, black panties, long skirt, red blouse unbuttoned down to daring levels, the usual jewelry, and… today, short red heels.

His guess would have been right, except all the reds and blacks were swapped. He verified this as she came to him, running his hand up her leg, lifting her skirt to see what he could see. Yes. Red. He pulled her down on top of him, causing her to laugh with delight, kissing him gently so as not to mess up her perfection.

If I ruined your makeup, I would rather it be your lipstick than your mascara, he said with a sly wink. He helped her back up, but stayed in bed himself. She asked him if he would like some tea – an unusual request for the morning. Were they out of coffee? He nodded.

He heard the sounds of the kettle being filled and put on the stove emanating from the hallway. Why did she always heat up water that way? he wondered to himself. The windows were open, and a breeze was blowing through the room. He heard the sound of the outdoors – cars going by, rustling trees, a siren in the distance, birds chirping, the kettle whistling. It was a crisp morning, but not unpleasant, as long as he kept the covers on.

She gave him a cup with tea in, green tea with jasmine and honey. He didn’t put anything in it, but he still liked to stir the tea around to give it an even flavor. She told him not to move, so he wouldn’t burn himself, and carefully kissed him goodbye. He sipped the hot liquid, warming up his insides. This will be a good morning, he thought.

Hearing the front door open and close, he closed his eyes again, being careful not to spill the cup. He just listened to the morning sounds, felt the crispness of the air, and drank his tea. Something seemed off.

Footsteps again, and then she appeared in the doorway of the bedroom. She hadn’t left? No, but she moved no closer. She just watched him drink the tea. He opened his eyes. It was her, but with an unfamiliar expression. Something definitely seemed off about… off

She smiled, as the teacup shattered on the floor by the bed. He opened his eyes one last time, as if to ask her why she would do such a thing. Why she would do this to him, to them… Why she….

He woke with a start. The curtain was fluttering in the wind, snows blowing through the open window. He got up to close it, revealing his nakedness, before dashing back under the covers. She appeared in the doorway just as the smell of fresh coffee wafted into the bedroom. He smiled and watched her as she set the mugs down on the nightstand and opened her robe, revealing nothing and everything underneath.

This will be a good morning…

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5 thoughts on “The Crisp Air of Morning”

  1. I admit, I always love the dark turns…
    but what is off is that you imply having tea in the morning is not a good thing 😛
    …although, as much as green tea with jasmine is yummy, it’s hard to beat english breakfast…or wait, irish breakfast, and russian caravan and there’s an australian afternoon tea now i absolutely love…

    Liked by 1 person

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