I was seated at a writing desk, my feet propped up on an open drawer, with a laptop quite appropriately on my lap. The walls were painted a forest green, and outside the curtained windows I could see the trees turning golden from the autumn. Another glance over the desk revealed a shelf with bookends containing between them a collection of Raymond Chandler, as well as some titles unfamiliar to me save for a couple. They were my books. And on the screen in front of me was another work in progress.
I set the laptop on the desk and go over what I have put down. Nero was working another case with his more effective if questionable methods, and his girl caught him at it again. Doesn't look like he'll be able to talk his way out of it so easily this time, but I have a feeling they'll work it out. They always do.
As I was reaching for the keys, I felt a set of slender fingers sift through my hair, getting a handful before slicking it back. The tips came back through, gently caressing my scalp above and behind my ears. I would have preferred they scratched a little lower. She knows this.
"Why does he only call her "darling" when he's in trouble?" She asked me with amusement giving a musical lilt to her voice.
"He hopes it'll be endearing." I answered. "I don't know if it should have quite the effect he intends. What do you think?"
She continued scratching lightly behind my ear. Her fingers slipped lower onto my shoulders as her lips took their former position by my right ear.
"She wishes he would call her that without being in trouble."
"He likes to call her 'My Love'."
"And as you keep telling me, variety is the spice of life." She reminded me teasingly.
I loved seeing this side of her.
"Sounds like you had a good time today." I said, reaching back to touch her face. It didn't take long for my fingers to trail down past her shoulders.
"You should come next time." She replied. I was halfway through a double-entendre when an electric chime came through my ears.
I opened my eyes to darkness. My hand automatically reached over for my phone and I checked the number. Not recognizing it, I answered. Maybe I should have hung up. I did a minute or two later, but I indulged her with some texts, wishing all the while that I could get back to my dream. I never did. I never could turn down a damsel in distress, but sometimes I wonder if it's really worth the trouble.
