Eye Contact

T. H. Sandal's first person narrator recounts an affair conducted over ten weekends. Easily distracted, prone to sermonising, he's also something else in the bedroom. But does he realise? The story includes a closing textual twist.

   Sample ...

   What struck me first was the glorious lines of her body. All the way from her shoulders down her back, the rise of her buttocks, the taper of her thighs and the gentle upswing of her calves. The soles of her feet as well and her toes.

   There was a sense of perfection about her, the kind of wonder you get with new-borns, but here applied to a grown woman in her prime. The skin of her back was impinged only by a couple of moles, delicately placed, one near her right shoulder and the other in a delicious spot down near the small of her back. Besides those, her back was flawless as were her buttocks and I longed to kiss and lick that expanse of skin, taking the time to explore it all.

   But I didn't want to wake her and I had a sense that there would be time enough for all that and more, so instead I lay back down next to her and watched her face until she woke.

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