When writing begins, it often begins with a conversation for me.  I start as if I’m in the middle of a discussion.  Sometimes it is driven by a memory, or the want of the memory.  Sometimes even my mind fails to recall the details and I struggle with it, trying to piece together something endlessly.

When I fail, it ends abruptly.  I failed, because in this image, I couldn’t tell if it was fiction or reality.  I couldn’t see her face, and her body was one I didn’t know.

I’m frustrated.  Prowling.

‘You’re in a funny mood.’ She said to me, watching me from the deck. I was laying on the ground, my feet and calves dangling into the pool.  A towel was the only thing keeping my back from cooking on the sun-heated slate. I was lazy, and had spend the afternoon ignoring the surgeon general’s advise about sun exposure. My body was hot, my skin shades darker than I’d been all season.

She handed me a glass of water and sat down next to me, running her fingers over my stomach. ‘You okay?’

‘I’m good.’ I turned my head on the towel and squinted at her, half-blinded by sunshine. I smiled. ‘Just enjoying the quiet.’

She laughed. ‘Was that a hint?’ She held the glass over my stomach and tipped it forward until the water reached the edge, but didn’t spill.

I laughed. ‘Threatening me?’

‘Yes.’ She winked at me. ‘You dare me?’

‘No.’ I moved until I rested back on my elbows and slid the sunglasses down to cover my eyes. ‘Cuz you’ll do it.’

‘I want to do it.’

I chuckled. ‘Go ahead. It comes with a price.’

Her laugh was nervous now. ‘I don’t know if it’d be worth it.’

My eyebrow lifted, but I didn’t say anything. A moment later, she put the glass down. Her cool hand ran over my stomach again and she leaned into me and kissed my mouth. ‘But you’d tempt the devil.’

‘I am the devil.’ I kissed her back.