The door creaked opened, revealing the dingy room.
The first smell that hit me wasn’t the musty aroma from the other day, it was the scent of shaving cream—Tate’s shaving cream. A small smile lit my tremoring lips. This smell warmed me …reassured me, erasing my fears. I reached around the door and searched for the light-switch, flicking it up to turn it on. Nothing happened. Scraps of light came from the glow of the moon shining in the window, illuminating the dresser, but that was all.
I walked farther into the room and advanced toward the dresser. The music got louder, reaching higher crescendos. My face wrinkled in confusion, and I inched closer, trying to make sense of it. Sad and melancholy notes sifted the room—heartbroken, bereaved. Perplexed at what could be creating this, I opened up the top drawer of the dresser—careful—not disturbing it.
The drawer was dark and empty so I closed it, stepping back, listening. A delicate breeze tickled my ear—like the feel of someone’s breath—making me grin. I glanced to the locked window. Nothing could have come through there.
The feel of tenacious arms cradled, pulled me in, holding me prisoner inside a satiny caress. It mesmerized me—captured in a trance-like state. An arousal stirred deep, nerve endings tingled.
Everything was unbelievably good in this moment, I never wanted it to end. I stood there with my arms wrapped around myself, eyes closed, swaying back and forth; this wonderful feeling of pure, undeniable love surrounding me.It went away as quickly as it came. A shutter banging against the side of the house woke me, snapping me back to reality.