The boy kissed her shoulder blade with a soft tenderness. First on the right followed by the other. Her nipples hardened and swelled in response. She closed her eyes as her body shoke with excitement, anticipating for more. She did not even like him that much. It struck her odd how easily she could detach herself from emotions. Yet ever since she could remember, detachment has always been one of her many talents.
Outside, the rain came down in torrential. Sinking deeper into the bleach-white sheets, she wondered about the people caught in the downpour. In the distance, she heard the sound of pots and pans. Mrs Meredith must be home. It was Sunday and she always made beef stew for the family. They had an old tabby cat which they called Bib. He might be hiding in the bedroom closet. He never did fancy wet weather. The warm comfort of the room did not allow her thoughts to dwell long. With time it drifted, like steam billowing out of a boiling pot.
By now, her belly button was a curl where his lips lingered. Underneath sharp breaths, she could hear his gnawing voice of desire lusting for the wetness of her warmth. The clock on the wall kept ticking, instilling in it a growing sense of urgency. It was like the moment before the start of a race and everyone was poised in position, eagerly waiting for the sound of a gunshot. Bang!