Momentary Insanity by Sesa Woruban
[Edit - Author's Notes: It's just occurred to me that, due to my liberal mind, I haven't put any warnings on this before now over and above the rating warning. It features a woman thinking about a woman in a more than platonic way. In some crazy countries, this is illegal, in others, we should be protecting our children from this evil, apparently. Well, all I can say is that, in my mind, it's no more dangerous to young minds than the other PG-13 fics I have on this site. I contains vague sexual references and no violence (a far worse thing to introduce to the next generation IMHO) but to fulfil my obligations, I have duly warned you.]
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Five minutes ago I was standing in front of the mirror actually practicing the nonchalant look I'm going to use when I next see you. Luckily, I caught myself doing it almost instantly and realized how royally stupid I must look. I sat down at the kitchen counter and watched the pasta simmer instead.
Three minutes ago, I found myself murmuring to myself thinking and re-thinking of invitation phrases. I just want to ask you if you'd like to join the team for dinner to celebrate Jonas' birthday next week. Talking to yourself, can't be high on the list of 'good things to be doing' either. I *think* I stopped.
Now, the pasta has finished and I've been here for 10 minutes staring as it turns into a tepid congealed mess.
It's only dinner.
Last Thursday, I made a similar invitation. At the time, I think it really *was* fairly off-hand; a friend asking a friend out to a meal with other friends. Now here I am, only four days later and there's no way I could do it again in such an easy-going manner. I'd probably stutter, blush and generally make a complete fool of myself. When did I, Major Lack-Of-Relationship-Worries, turn into this Bridget-Jones emotional fuck-wit?
I've got that damn song lyric 'It started with a kiss...' going round and round my head. I was even caught humming it at yesterday's mission debriefing. And while it wasn't actually a kiss, it was the thought of one that set these thoughts running.
It was getting late in the evening, the guys were just chatting about something; I wasn't really paying attention. My chin was in my hand and idly I glanced over to you next to me. I found your eyes focused on my neck. There was a hunger in them, it was something I'd never seen before, at least not from a woman. They pulled me in.
In seconds, and without warning, my mind had pushed away the surrounding reality of the bar and company and replaced it with a delicious fantasy. In it, you would lean in a little further, your lips and tongue brushed my skin and then I would sigh and move my face down towards yours. Our lips would slowly converge; yours would be warm and full and taste of red wine and coffee.
As quickly as it was conjured, the spell was broken and in a moment of self-consciousness, I found myself smirking a little as our eyes met. I still can't work out what you had been thinking and were saying to me with that look.
At the end of the evening, I watched you walk out to the parking lot after accepting a ride home with the Colonel. You disappeared into his oversized truck and as my eyes followed the tail lights out on to the freeway, I felt a strange stab of jealousy. My own ride home gave me some space but no conclusions and my sleep that night was peppered with some of the most erotic dreams I've had in a long time.
The last 72 hour mission gave me more time to think and it's just created even more confusion. You're my friend, one of the closest I have. You're a colleague coming complete with a set of regulations. And you're a woman, this isn't something I've really thought about or felt before now. Maybe it's the loneliness? I haven't even been kissed, properly kissed, for years now. I don't know how I can find myself feeling like this but I *do* know I just want to touch you and for us to go home together at the end of an evening. It's that thought and the fantasies I've created to go with them that are making it difficult to even speak to you face-to-face at the moment.
I have to resolve this somehow. I need to act.
I think I've proved to myself that I can't just leave it and hope it'll go away. At the same time though, if the thought of just inviting you out for a group dinner gets me talking to myself, there's no way I'm going to actually be able to speak to you about all this.
So, instead, I'm going to give you this letter. I've typed and re-typed it so many times, now I just need to quit and pray. Call it a moment of temporary madness but I'm going to just print this up now and put it in an envelope with a big 'PRIVATE & CONFIDENTIAL' sticker on it. Then tomorrow I'll place it in your hand in the casual style I've been practicing and take off for two deserved days' leave.
Cowardly? Probably.
Honest? Yes.
Yours? Sam.
~FINIS~
