Backstory

“I’ll loan you a sweater.”

“What sweater of yours could possibly fit me?’

“It’s cold out. I’ll find one.” She walked into the closet, stood there, looking at the piles of clothes. So many clothes...

“Oh what, you’re going to give me one of your husband's?” He sniffs, wrinkles his nose. “It smells like mothballs in here.”

“Thank you, yeah I know. No, that would be rude. Or vulgar. Or both. No, one of mine.” Flicking through the pile, she pulls out an old fisherman sweater, hands it to him. He puts it back on the shelf.

“Love, there is no sweater of yours,” moving behind her, against her, he reached around to hold her breasts. Pulled her back against him, kissed her neck. One arm now tight around her, the other slowly moved over her abdomen, back and forth, lower, until he cupped her pudenda with his hand. Rocking his hand on her, he squeezed gently. “that could ever fit me. Besides,I don’t need a sweater.” Kissing her neck, the space behind her ear, he could feel her body getting warmer. The closet filled with her scent. “I'm warm enough. I don’t need a sweater.”

“Oh god...” She arched her back slightly, shaking, feeling him against her.

“Hmm? Yes?” Moving behind her, he knelt, licked her thighs, her cleft. Stood up, pressing against her. He whispered, “I don’t need a sweater, I’m warm, I’m warm all over. You are so, so hot on me. You are so boiling on me,” as he moved inside her.

“Oh god,” she grasped the shelf, her torso almost parallel to the floor.

“I don’t need a sweater...OH GOD!”

“It’s cold out. It really is. You’re going to freeze. Here, take it already. It's the biggest one I have.”

“I look ridiculous.” Holding out his arms, the sleeves stop four inches above his wrist.

“Well, still, it has to be better than not. I don't have anything longer. The rest of it’s not too bad.” She looks at him. Sighs, shaking her head. “It’s just really short on you.”

“You’re really short on me. On the inside, too.” He picks her up, easily. She wraps her legs around him, twines them around his thighs.

“Stop, c’mon. You’re going to be so late.” She flexed her leg muscles, rubbing herself on him. “You really have to go. I have to finish my project, too.” She took a deep breath, sighed. The house smelled different when he was here. It smelled full.

“Don’t have time? You sure? You’re dripping on me, we’re dripping on me.”

She pushes the sweater up, his warm hairless flesh touching hers. She couldn’t stop touching him. Even across a room, she could feel him on her; feel the air rippling on her when he walked past. She loved the texture of his skin, little bumps and ridges, his bones barely visible. One arm around him, her hand on his lower back, the other reached up to pull his face to hers. His well-worn 501s were soft on her legs, the buttons straining against her.

Lips moving on hers, “Yes? You want? Let me take my pants off, sweetheart.”

“No, really. You have to go, I’m just playing.”

“You know how much I love you?”

“I love you more because I’m older.”

“I love you more because I’m bigger.”

“I love you more because...because I’m more compact so it’s intensified.”

“What, you’re a reduction?” He laughed, almost dropping her.

“Yeah, I like that. I’m a reduction. You’ve boiled me away leaving the most intense flavor and aroma behind. Now you can pour me over chicken or use me to make a delicious gravy.” She unwrapped herself, leaned against the wall, arms crossed, laughing.

“Stay there.” He put his foot between hers, pushed them apart. Got down on his knees and kissed her. “Yes, a reduction. Essence of you with more intense flavor and aroma. You are so addictive. If I could bottle you, I would be a rich man. “

”You really have to, really have to, really... Oh! You have to go, you’re already late.” She parted her legs a bit more. “You are going to be so late.”

“Mmph. Like I care? I’m late, I’ll be later.”

He returned the sweater three weeks later. When he said goodbye.