A Present for Sean

It’s after midnight and I rake my hands through my hair in frustration. I’m on my own for once, due to Sean and I having appointments in different directions this afternoon. I miss him, my body squirming, aching for his touch, but that’s not the bloody reason for my frustration.

I’m sprawled out on my bed with my laptop, madly hunting around the Net. He’s got a birthday coming up and I don’t have a fucking clue what to get him. I don’t know shit about footie, just enough to follow a game, but just barely. His beloved Blades are on the other side of the world . . . that thought distracts me with a vivid sense-memory of tasting his tattoo, carefully licking the skin to see if it tastes different from the rest of him.

( I'm easily distracted . . .  )

R