Robert Graves

The snow starts falling early that morning. It falls softly; small flakes drift intermittently past the window.

It is, inevitably, cold.

He watches her sleep, wishing himself into such a peaceful slumber.

He fears waking her, so instead of rising as is his custom, he remains where he is. Contemplative, his train of thought takes him to the first time that she came to him.

He smiles.

~

She sits at the table, the wineglass in her hand only half-full with red liquid that she is past tasting. The food is long gone, as is her companion. She doesn’t care. Her reasons for accepting the date were loneliness, desperation, the need for an evening away from the office.

She can’t complain; it was a pleasant enough evening. Both parties understood early on that there was nothing more to it.

She still feels lonely. This isn’t surprising; she feels lonely most of the time.

It doesn’t help that recently her mother’s first few words on the phone are questions about her love life. The not-so-subtle insinuations that she needs to find someone before it’s too late. To get settled, have children, live happily ever after.

However, recent experience has shown her that settling for the first available person is not necessarily the answer. She thinks of Josh and Amy, and of their relationship, which is spiralling into disrepair. She does not envy them that. She only wishes that it would fall apart sooner – the current situation is often unpleasant for her.

She finishes her glass and pours another, and when she has finished that, begins on yet another. The alcohol goes down as easy as water and she is only vaguely aware of its effect.

It’s in this hazy, semi-coherent state that she decides to call Josh. Her reason for doing so is entirely logical to her, except that she forgets it as soon as he picks up. Not letting that stop her, she asks where Amy is, and he informs her that Amy has told him never to speak to her again.

Her mood changes from self-pitying to cheery as she questions Amy’s message almost to the point of annoyance. He seems to have a faint inkling of her behaviour and, laughing, asks her if she’s drunk. She replies that it’s a possibility. She tells him to come over. Not without humour, he comments that it might be a little inappropriate, especially since their interactions had caused the increase in Amy's complaints.

She accepts this, but innocently asks if it would be okay for her to come over to his apartment instead. He laughs again but she is determined, adding that she might even let him have a couple of beers if he behaves. He tries to protest, but she has already put the phone down and is on her way over.

She arrives maybe twenty minutes later, her cheeks red from the cold, snow in her hair. He tells her that she shouldn’t be there, but lets her in anyway.

She has a six-pack of beers in her hand, and teasingly holds them away from him when he tries to take them. She attempts to prove her sobriety by walking in a straight line to his couch, and he notes with amusement the way she almost falls over.

She sits down. Handing him a beer, she asks again where Amy is. She tries not to feel too cheerful when he tells her that they are having a ‘trial separation’ period. It’s not that she has anything against Amy as a person, she’s just relieved that one of them finally understands that there’s a possibility that the relationship won’t last forever.

He complains that at this rate he’s never going to satisfy his mother, who only wishes that he’d find himself a ‘nice girl’ to settle down with. She grins, recognising the situation. He misunderstands, lamenting that he hasn’t got time to meet people, and besides, no one ever finds him attractive. She studies him, the alcohol giving her a ‘new’ look at him, trying to decide whether he speaks the truth. After a minute or so of watching him wallow in self-pity, he downs his beer, and she announces that she finds him attractive, so others must too.

It’s then that she comes up with the ‘perfect solution’. Neither of them have the time nor the inclination to go out and date hundreds of people, trying to satisfy their mothers and themselves. So why don’t they just get together, since they know that they can put up with each other? He chokes on his beer and she pouts, saying that she’s not all that bad a lover – she can give him a demonstration if he’d like.

This causes more choking. He turns down her offer, explaining that he is still officially seeing Amy, and that he doesn’t think that Amy would be too impressed with the idea. She accepts this explanation, informing him that it’s his loss.

They sit, drink, talk and watch TV for a few hours. Later, she falls asleep on his couch.

~

A month later – over three weeks since his official break-up with Amy – he sits in his apartment, recalling the evening and wondering if he should have taken her up on the offer.

He knows that there’s something between them – the last month of semi-awkwardness and his almost constant thoughts of her confirm that – but he's not sure whether it's enough.

His thoughts of the last month have see-sawed between wanting to ask if she meant what she said and chastising himself for imagining that it was anything more than a drunken incident.

He has wanted to call her frequently over the past month and ask, but he worries that in asking he might lose both a friend and an assistant.

He doesn’t want some thing of convenience, but maybe that’s what she was proposing.

His thoughts finally manage to confuse him thoroughly and he is about to phone her when he hears a knock on the door.

She stands in his doorway, bundled up in winter clothes, until he invites her in.

As she enters, she explains again that she didn't actually mean to proposition him. He finds the coincidence almost amusing – that she’s been thinking about this ‘thing’ between them as well. He’s said several times before that he understands, so he wonders about the real reason she came round.

This time he surprises them both, and asks if she really means what she's saying.

She doesn’t answer for a minute, then admits that she’s not sure, but that she definitely didn’t mean to do it then and in that way. He slowly says okay, in a tone of voice that suggests he’s anything but.

She isn't conscious of walking up to him and studying him closely, as she tries to understand both what he says and what he means.

He is not surprised when she tilts her head up and kisses him quickly. Or did he lean down and quickly kiss her? He’s not sure. Neither is he sure who initiates the second kiss, one that lasts longer and is intense and passionate.

She pulls back briefly. "This isn’t… I want this," she informs him. "I’m not settling." She looks at him, searching his face, hoping that he wants the same thing she does.

He nods in agreement, relieved, and resumes kissing her. She doesn’t object and allows him to draw her slowly to the bedroom.

She lies down on the bed and begins to unbutton her pants. He takes over and removes them completely. Her eyes hold his gaze as he pulls her top slowly over her head.

She is soon completely naked; he still wears all his clothes. He stops, asking her whether she’s sure about this. She tells him that she is, commenting that if they stop now, things will be unbearably awkward tomorrow and for no good reason. He waits a second, then begins to kiss her from her forehead down to her toes, lingering briefly on her breasts, her stomach, and across to her hips.

When he reaches her feet, he starts working his way back up, dropping kisses on her right calf, her knee. Then he shifts, devoting attention to her other leg, moving his mouth up at an almost unbearably slow pace. He pauses at the junction of her thighs, kissing her clit once, twice, three times. He lifts his head so that he can see her face. She raises her eyebrow in response, pushing his head back down. He grins against her skin.

It's a while later before she finally gets the chance to remove his clothing – pants, shirt, boxer shorts, eventually his socks. He leans past her, digs into the drawer beside his bed and locates a condom. With a smile, she takes it from him before he can react and tears it open.

She moves closer to him as he lies next to her on the bed and shuffles her way down his body. She lightly kisses her way up his cock before placing the protection on. He rolls over, finding his way on top of her. She’s slightly uncomfortable as he enters her, but gradually relaxes as they find a rhythm.

His hand wanders down to the place where they meet, circling her clitoris with increasing speed. Her climax is a good few minutes before his own. Afterwards they remain clinging to one another, hot, sweaty, and exhausted. Sleep comes easily to them both.

~

It’s a few months later and he watches her sleep beside him. He can’t help but be happy that they’ve finally found each other.

His current position causes aching in his side and he has to move. He reluctantly climbs out of the bed, grinning as she stirs and, half-awake, searches the mattress beside her.

She opens one eye wearily, and holds her arm out to him, wordlessly asking him to return to the bed. He stretches briefly, trying to rid himself of the aching before doing as she desires. He moves close to her, making himself comfortable around her.

"Joshua," she whispers, half asleep.

"Donnatella," he replies.

"Love you," she murmurs, before sleep overcomes her again.

He smiles, pulling her closer.

Outside, the snow falls faster and covers the earth.