Word Count 325
Disclaimer – Saphronia is mine, but
part of a world I did not invent
On the Garden Bench
But they had had six hours. Six hours,
by his watch. He had been so careful. He had opened the watch, put it
where they both could see. There, next to his hat. They had both
tried not to look at it. The two of them, like fools, pressed
together on the garden bench, kissing and kissing.. There, under the
arbor, no one could see. She had been half in his lap by the end. She
could feel how much he wanted her. But he had not pushed. He had not
s aid, 'I'll- die- if- you -don't-let-me.' He had only grasped her
like a lifeline, and gasped little half words into her neck, her
If the pressing of bodies together
could stop time, the earth would never have moved again.
Sitting now, before the mirror, she
could see the marks, red bites, up the side of her neck, under the
sharp angle of her jaw. Just there, had been his soft mouth, his
teeth...He had the same marks, she knew. She had wanted to sink her
sharp teeth in him, to bite and possess, and somehow soothe the
softening inside. She passed her fingers over the mark. It ached.
Everything ached. Her mouth was swollen.
His must be the same. She pressed her
fists between her legs, down through her petticoat. Everything ached.
Her face was hot. Was it the same for him? Must be.
Soon they would marry. She would let
him cross the bar. He would still go to sea, but when he was home
they would do it all the time. Until then, she would sleep with his
letters. She would pray for his safety. And they would just have to