He would sleep, every time after they made
love out. It was a ritual of sorts. It wasn’t that she wasn’t tired enough to dose off but because she enjoyed the time after. It was different every single time. No monotony. No regular routine. Spontaneous and lively.
She would put him to sleep and slowly get up from the bed making sure there is no sound made that would wake him up. She would then take his shirt that lay on the ground, the poor thing being ripped away from its owner and thrown down and smell it, taking in his scent slowly before putting it on and sitting on the armchair and waiting for him to wake up. This always gave her a high. A twisted sense of security.
She would then while away time thinking, looking outside the window , reading or just watching him sleep.
After hours, he would stir in his sleep and wake up, eventually. He’d then come over to to the chair she’d dosed off on and ask , “Do you want to watch a movie?”, taking her hands in his.
She would nod ecstatically.
“Dinner, movie and a walk if time permits.” He would then add in reckless measure, “the next time I promise.”
love out and he sleeps, again. A movie plays on the television in the neighboring room.