The Kiss

The moment he stepped into his apartment late in the evening he knew that it had been invaded again. It wasn't just the little things that were different now, a chair standing not aligned to the table any longer, a door slightly ajar when he was sure that he had closed it before leaving. No, it was the unfamiliar scent that was lying in the air. It was just a trace of it, almost undetectable, but he knew it was there. He stopped dead in his tracks, studying the surroundings carefully before he reached out for the light switch. The sudden harsh brightness chased the shadows away, bathing everything in its glow but the feeling didn't abate.

He took a tentative step forward, only now realizing that he had been holding in his breath. Dust particles floated through the air, dancing underneath the beams of light and he finally released the air from his lungs. "Hello?" His voice echoed through the empty apartment but he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't alone. "Who are you? What do you want?" Again, there was no reply and he frowned. Maybe he was just going crazy. Maybe the long hours and the stress at work, the recent tensions with his girlfriend and everything else that was happening in his life right now were finally taking a toll on him. Maybe he simply was imagining things. He forced himself to ignore the shiver that crept up his spine while he quickly searched the rest of his small apartment but, as he had known, it was completely empty.

About an hour later he slipped into his bed, taking a few moments to find a comfortable position. He had eaten and showered and throughout the whole time he hadn't been able to shake the feeling of being watched off. He finally closed his eyes but sleep wouldn't come. Instead he remembered how it had started. A few weeks back he had returned home after a very relaxing evening at the pub with some old friends. When he had stepped into his apartment he knew that someone had been there. He couldn't even explain how he knew. He just did. And since then this was happening on a regular base. Things were disarranged or misplaced, different. And sometimes it only was a feeling. There never had been actual proof that someone was breaking into his apartment or why.

He turned and tossed around in his bed, again wondering if he actually was losing his mind. Maybe he just turned crazy and nothing of this was really happening. Suddenly an idea began forming in his head how he could find out about this once and for all. How he would be able to end this mystery. Tomorrow morning before work he would go and buy some surveillance cameras, maybe some that went off if there was a movement or a sound like in those ghost hunter shows on television. He would install them and finally figure out what was going on. That thought gave him some peace of mind and he finally was able to slip into a light sleep.

It was pitch dark when he awoke with a start. He reached out for the lamp on his nightstand but something made him hesitate. Instead he sat up in his bed, pulling the blanket closer around his naked chest. He had no idea what it was that had woken him up. He remembered that he had dreamt but the pictures were already blurry, slipping through the cracks of his mind like sand through his fingers. Had there just been a noise to his left? The soft rustling of fabric that was moving, like a nightgown? The unfamiliar scent was back in the air and it was stronger than it ever had been. He wasn't alone any longer. It definitely was a female scent, something that actually surprised him. So far he always had figured that the intruder was male. He wanted to switch on the light but couldn't move. Maybe he was just too scared about what he was going to see.

The touch to his cheek was soft, warm and gentle, a human hand reaching out to him and despite the fact that he was so scared that he hardly was able to breathe, a small voice inside of his head told him that he was safe and that there was nothing to fear.

And then he felt the kiss.

His initial reaction was to draw back from it in shock but for some reasons he still couldn't move, being frozen within this moment. At first the warm and soft lips only felt like a gentle breeze against his own, light and soothing but the kiss quickly intensified, getting stronger and more demanding. Without actually wanting it, he was drawn into it, his lips almost automatically opening, allowing the kiss to deepen and when the tip of his tongue touched the other one for the first time he was forcefully pulled into a maelstrom of desire and longing, something strong awakening inside of him, rising and blooming. His body instantly reacted. He brought his hands up, intending to pull the mysterious woman into his arms but there was nothing but air, her lips gone from his, only leaving a soft tingle behind.

He finally was able to reach for the lamp. The light revealed that he was alone in his room, there was no one hiding in the shadows, nothing underneath his bed. Only him and a memory that was already fading like dust in the wind. Her scent still hung in the air, leaving him with such a deep longing that his heart ached.

When he woke up again the next morning he faintly realized that he had experienced some really weird dreams last night but other than that he didn't recall anything. He actually had slept better than he had in a long time and for the first time in weeks, he didn't have the feeling of being watched. He looked around in the bedroom but there was nothing. No unfamiliar scent, no mysterious presence around, no shivers down his spine. He was alone. But something had changed. All of a sudden there was a longing inside of him, an urge he felt, a burning desire that needed to be quenched.

A year later

"Mr. Robertson," the journalist who had waited for him in front of his small apartment said. "Congratulations on leading the bestseller lists with your first novel for weeks in a row now. I am a huge fan of your book myself. Would you be willing to answer me some quick questions?"

He stopped in his tracks and removed the sunglasses from his face. It was a warm and sunny day, the journalist was young and pretty and he had some time until his next appointment. "Sure," he said and smiled at her. "Thank you," the woman smiled back at him. "Can you tell us how you actually got into writing?"

He frowned for a moment, a memory threatening to rise to the surface but it was gone again before he was able to grasp it. He only shrugged before he put his sunglasses back on. "I must have been kissed by a muse," he then said and grinned.