Harry Christmas to You!

December 15

You awaken, humming with happiness. Benny dozes in his basket. You can hear his snoring. Slightly you pull back the duvet and creep to the door. You don't wear your pyjamas because Harry saw you once in your childish pyjamas. Never again! You wear a blue navy faded long shirt. It's from your ex boyfriend, but you don't care about him anymore. The relationship is long over and from time to time you see him with his wife in the supermarket. You greet him and sometimes you talk. You are glad that he has found the right woman. You were not the right woman for him. Or was he the wrong man for you? You were so young, and he was interested in sports and his soccer team so there was no space for a sensitive woman who wants to talk on rainy Sundays sitting in the living room wrapped in blankets and watching the drops sliding down the window panes. But you were forced to be on the soccer field and watch the guys hit each other. You didn't like it.

If you were playing guitar he always teased you a little bit because he has no sense for music. He was one of the loud guys, sometimes one who was involved in a brawl at the pub. You couldn't explain to yourself why you had been in a relationship with him. And your dad didn't understand it either.

As you stand at the door you look down the stairs to where you know Harry slept during the night. Too much leg? Your mum would be proud at least. You shrug and press the door handle down. Softly you sneak down the stairs. At the third step you put your foot all the way out to the edge, because you know the step will creak. You stand on the penultimate step, and your hand rests on the banister. You feel the hard wood under your fingers, and you have to smile. He is lying on the sofa, his black jeans hanging over the armrest of the chair. Your eyes widen as you see his black shirt hanging beside the black jeans. You bite your lower lip and sneak on tiptoe towards him. You hear his soft breath. He's cuddled in the pillow. and the duvet covers his bare chest.

Glancing at the clock, you calculate how much time you can create if you streamline your morning routine, and you decide it's totally worth it. You tiptoe closer to him, peeling back the duvet, wondering if he will awaken. When you pull back the duvet, the sight that is revealed is enough to fuel your fantasies for years to come. You are absorbed by his tattoos, and your eyes don't know where to land. There are so many! The butterfly stands out the most, and then your eyes wander to the birds on his collarbones, looking like they are in flight. Are they lovebirds, you wonder. Your hands itch to trace the 17Black as you ponder the possible meanings of it. It looks like there's half a heart there, and the letter A, and your eyes continue down his arm. You are distracted when his left titty appears to twitch, and your eyes fly up to his face. To find his eyes are on your face, gazing at you steadily.

You throw the duvet back over him, retreating a step or two, mortified to have been caught looking so intently. You want the earth to swallow you whole at this very minute. Your hand is over your mouth, and the flames of hell are licking up your neck to your face, turning it the brightest of reds.

Harry maintains eye contact with you, an intense look on his face as he slowly folds the duvet from his chest over again, once more exposing that glorious chest. Your eyes follow his movements and then fly back up to his eyes where he hasn't stopped looking at you.

"Look all you want, pet," he drawls in his croaky morning voice. Oh my god! His morning voice makes you wet with its deep tenor. "But if you want to touch, it's going to cost you."