She’d been thinking about his lap again. The image wafted through her mind like a photogra

She’d been thinking about his lap again. The image wafted through her mind like a photograph on the wind, looping around and around until it was hovering in front of her constantly, fluttering so as to grab her attention, a constant diversion. It wasn’t just his lap, that was just a part of it. She was there, too, and it was that which preoccupied her in such a ridiculous manner.

She was wriggling, most of the time. It didn’t matter how she was positioned, whether over his knees with her belly hard against his thighs, or sitting there as if she wasn’t an accomplished woman, bum shifting around, as if trying to locate the firmness of his crotch through the layers of clothing that separated them. She’d wriggled, and his eyebrow would arch up as if ratcheted, as if every little movement of hers drove it a little bit higher. And then he would grab her, not suddenly, but with a quick confidence, his large hands wrapping around her small wrists, and holding them hard behind her back, sliding a little higher until she ceased her squirming.

She might pout. She might frown. She might close her eyes and enjoy that moment, the sudden control of it, hot and heavy on her skin, a tangible sensation that she could savour in those calm moments between one action and the next. That was the thing about fantasies and daydreams; they flittered out before conclusion. They were snapshots, brief glimpses of scenes rather than a full narrative. There was no payoff, and no dramatic flow. It was the nature of obsession, dwelling on details, eye against the needle and thread rather than taking in the whole tapestry.

“There are miles between us right now, aren’t there?” She glanced up from her coffee, and this time it was her eyebrows that shot up.

“Hmm?” A bemused smile weaved its way over her face, and she picked up her spoon to idly stir.

“That look on your face. The glassy linger in your eyes. You’re thinking about someone else, aren’t you? Something, at the very least.” She could almost see a smirk on his lips, and she could do little else but mirror it. She took a sip from her coffee.

“Oh, that. No, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.” His eyes narrowed, and she looked away, smiling into her cup.