by
Kat Williams

We were friends. Friends with benefits. Not the type you are thinking about but good ones none the less.

We switched weekends, if the other wasnít busy. We both had keys. Come late, leave whenever.

We were bed buddies.

Simple really, neither of us was involved. Both of us missed cuddling, the sharing of warmthÖthe touch of another human.

We devised a plan one late night over the phone. Another night alone.

Iím not attracted to her. Sheís not attracted to me. Two nights a week, weekends only, we sleep together.

Simple, easy, beautiful. Then it became complicated.

Iím still not sure if it was the 1st night or the 2nd night when I realized her skin was as soft as brown butter. At first it was just the patch of skin on her right side below her 10th rib and above her pelvic bone. I found this out when her baby T crept up. I didnít push it. We were spooning.

I soon discovered there were similar brown butter soft patches all over. All over.

I didnít realize till maybe the 4th night that the shea butter she wears lingers on me, around me all through the next day, lining my nostrils. Still there after Iíve scrubbed and soaked for hours. Traces of her.

On the 8th night when she neglected to tie her hair back my dreams were infused with guava, mango and passion fruit. I woke to her her locs covering my face. Painting images on my sleepy canvas.

She mumbles in her sleep. She touches me in her sleep. We are bed buddies.

The 12th night I didnít sleep. Neither did she.

The End

Copyright © 2007. Used by permission of author. All Rights Reserved.

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