I've felt the coldness of my winterI am listening to his latest effort while Zeppelin plays softly on the other side of the room. Ben has made the big headphones as small as they will go and still I have to hold them to my ears or they slide down over my jaw. They fit him perfectly. He has a big head.
I never thought it would ever go
I cursed the gloom that set upon us
But I know that I love you so
The way he tells it I have a freakishly small skull that fits well in just one of his hands. I point out that my brain is equally smaller than the average human and therefore I must be more stupid than most and he nods very seriously. That's why you married me, he says.
Shut the fuck up, Ben.
Keep listening then, Bee.
So I turn away from him and close my eyes so I can feel the music, not physically this time. Oh my God. I don't know how he does this. It's beautiful and sweet but it isn't soft in the least. It's just as if he briefly makes himself transparent and allows us all to see. And then you blink and he's gone again and you realize you don't know a thing about him. I'm learning to deal with that part.
You want burgers? He's back to being always hungry, the weight he gained while he was in the states virtually falling off when he got home. That or it's the lack of a five-star chef here. I do my best but he's hard to keep satiated. Case in point, his hands slide down over my hips as I stand beside his chair and he pulls me into his lap. I'm hungry but not for food, Bridget.
The kiss that comes next leaves me lobotomized, loved. Ben's kisses fix everything. Had I known he was such a good kisser previously, I...huh, I have no idea but I don't pass them up now, I tell you.
His hands slide up under my t-shirt, under the camisole underneath to make goosebumps against bare skin. He's clearly starving here and I climb off his lap and try to pull him out of the chair to come upstairs with me. But when he stands up he lifts me up and slides my clothes right off and then carries me to the wall where I am pinned and left.
His breath is warm against the top of my head and my nose bumps against his chest as I am squeezed tighter and held harder than usual. He's tired. There's no finesse here, we're looking for comfort and familiarity and release. Polish can wait for another night, tonight is all about need.
Just when the alarms begin to sound in my mind that he might actually break my bones through my skin with his hands holding me so tightly he reaches his turning point and then he backs away from the wall, slowly, still holding me, backing right down into the chair.
My little muse, he says, pulling me in against his chest. My legs dangle over the arms of the chair. I look like a reject from the Houses of the Holy album cover that is on the floor near the stereo.
Is cold, I laugh in return. Jesus. It's freezing down here.
What are you talking about? It's hot. Oh, wait, that's you. Haha. Hey, what are you doing? Don't put those back on.
You want me to cook dinner naked?
Yes, yes I do.
I don't think the boys would appreciate that.
I think you're wrong, little bee.
Okay, the kids. I don't think the kids would appreciate that.
True. Here's your shirt.
Thank you, sir.
I'm not giving you back your jeans though. You look cute like this.
Oh, come on!