Day 4: J - Temporary Control
It was her hair, always her hair, that got him first. It didn’t matter what she was wearing, or what perfume she sprayed on. It was whether it was down or up, curly or straight, because by that extension he knew which one of her he’d get before she said hello. But don’t get him wrong, there was something about her fingers too. Slender, long, and delicate as they traced tiny pictures onto his chest. She was always warm after a cold day. A well deep enough that he could keep pulling from and she never emptied. But something in the way her fingers wrote invisible poems against his skin kept him tethered to her. Drifting away only to come swinging back. He could read her, every gesture, expression, every sigh. The way she bit her lip when she was alone meant she was insecure, but the way she bit her lip when she was talking to a man meant she was interested. The brief stutter in her sentence meant she was caught off guard and the small crease in her brow meant she was annoyed by that. He ...