Sleepless

The air was thick and steamy; it clung to Chloe’s naked body like a humid shroud. She hated the heat…she hated the nights so swampy that it was impossible for her to sleep. She even hated, if only idly and without true rancor, the steady drone of Peter’s husky snore. It both amazed and annoyed her that Peter could sleep so easily when she couldn’t sleep at all.

In the languid moonlight, Chloe leaned on one elbow, her breasts glistening in the pale golden glow and her dark hair lying limply behind her, and watched Peter sleeping. Peter was all rough-cut curves and hirsute masculinity from the top of his big head to his soft black beard…from his fireplug neck to his barrel chest…from his hard belly to his casually insolent sex to his thick, sturdy thighs; Chloe adored him still and always…he made her feel tiny and protected and deliriously overwhelmed when he touched her…but she still felt irrationally jealous of his ability to sleep through the sweltering.

She resisted the urge to touch him…to snuggle into that place in his strong embrace that belonged only to her…the heat Peter was radiating was palpable even through the thick air and she didn’t need or want that.

Chloe sighed and sank into her pillow turning away from Peter. Peter stirred and the sound coming from him stopped for a moment…and then he sighed as well, deeply and with satisfaction, and he began to snore again.

Chloe closed her eyes and tried to force herself to quit the hellish waking night for the cooler realms of the dreaming world. It didn’t work. She rolled over and looked at the man again. “How can you sleep when I can’t?’ she asked in a small whisper, a bit accusingly but mostly with admiration and love.

Peter stirred again, his massive arm flopping over in her direction.

Chloe laughed and reached out and touched his hand. She closed her eyes again and, feeling Peter’s steady pulse dancing through her fingerprints, she defied the heat and found her way into the dreaming world at last.