Role Reversal

Yancy shifts, careful not to disturb the dream that is evidenced by the slight but completely adorable twitch that keeps pulling Clea’s lips up and unknowingly putting a pink blush in her cheeks.

He struggles to stop himself from reaching for her while hoping he’s playing lead in her fantasy.

The bed moans its disapproval as he gently tries to eradicate his arm from underneath her copper curls.  Yancy takes a fingertip and pushes one unruly fiery strand away from her cheek and allows it to rest there a moment longer than he should.

Clea’s body stirs while her mouth moves in an elaborate series of openings and closings, her gentle whimpers arouse him as she unconsciously fills the gap between them with her warm, soft body until she’s tucked into him.

Without thinking, Yancy presses his lips to her forehead, his nose drawing in the tangy scent of sex and wheaty beer.

He never expected to end up here again.

The last words they’d said to each other, so many years ago, had been full of venom and tears. He’d written her off, vowing to never think of her again.

Until he’d had to.

Until the only thing he could see were her piercing eyes, the color of robin’s eggs, filling with tears as she reached to embrace him in surprise. Vanilla and something almost acrid, like the tip of a struck match,  made their way to his senses as he held on to her, refusing to let go.

They’d left the party together clutching at the past.


Clea wakes with her hand on his chest.

Yancy watches as she adjusts her body, naked and exposed, by wrapping the the sheet around herself and letting her gaze travel the room until it settles on him.

Watching  as she  stiffens and allows a single tear to travel the distance of her face before she moves away clutching the flimsy sheet he rushes to assure her.

He knew the truth but he spoke anyway.

“I’m sorry Clea. I never meant to hurt you.” He hears himself pleading, desperate and wrecked, but he can’t stop the words, ” I still love … ”.

Clea cuts off his admission with a watery smile, noncommittal and forced.

” Maybe some secrets  are best hidden away.”  She whispers into the skin near his middle.

Love is a luxury, lust is simply a comfort and Clea is only offering one.


I missed last week so I combined once again.

This week, we borrow from Tina, at Not Just Another Mother Blogger.

“Best hidden away” and/or “scar”

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About Kir

Kirsten is a wife after years of dating, a mom after years of infertility & a lover of shoes, words, NYC and TV dramas. A storyteller and daydreamer at heart, this is the place where her stories come to be told. Thanks for visiting.


  1. Excellent and sad .. you can write heart-breaking romance so well (though it’s not my normal genre)…
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  2. You do these sorts of scene so well. Every emotion ripples through your words.
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  3. I liked the feeling of missed opportunities that pervades the words in this piece. It pulls everything toget her very nicely.
    Tina recently shared…Arts, Crafts, and Book ReportsMy Profile

  4. I had hoped this would be a new beginning for them. But, like so many times, it seems history is too much to overcome.
    JannaTWrites recently shared…Autumn MetaphorMy Profile

  5. I’d blame my welling eyes on the hormones, but really, Kir, I think it’s your words. I just LOVED the robin’s egg description too :-)
    Forest Bird recently shared…NewbornMy Profile

  6. Sights, sounds, scents… You paint a scene and put us in it. I never get tired of these little tastes.
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