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Butterflies flutter butter soft, ever present in his presence.
Thoughts grip tightly onto images of him, my mind playing them over and over and over again as if on repeat....till my head hurts.
And my heart.

Aching heart throbs wildly; longing to be engulfed.
Eyes light up, pupils dilate... and the rest of my body follows; furiously set to smoulder.

He courses through my veins like a veld fire.
Hot as hell, and twice as punishing.
He weakens my knees... and my morals.
Mr Devil-may-care came and turned me on; turning my world on it's head.

It feels as if  I've been asleep since the dawn of time, not knowing. I think I had been waiting for him all along.

For him, my blood boils, fever spreads to limbs and loin. I tingle at the touch of him, lean into his glow, drawn to him like a moth to a flame...

A sudden draft jolts me from my reverie, someone in the office let the cold in.
"Get it together, Natalie!" I chide myself, "like a damned teenager with raging hormones.."

My To Do list stares me down: Tasks for Today demanding attention:
  • 10 boxes left unchecked
  • Urgent bold and in red on white boards. 
My tummy grumbles, "Where did today go?"
My thought turn to food: Vindaloo, hot & spicy, mmmmm.
Eating with our hands, bread, warm and soft lifted to hungry mouths. Melted butter dripping off our fingers. Fingers licked clean, lips and mouth on fire.
Me and him lapping up sauce with Naan (big as bats) smeared with garlic butter, torn to shreds.
Me and him, hunger sated, in a curry coma.
Drunk on feasting.

Drunk on love.
Clothes torn to shreds like Naan.
Hungry for heat & spice.
Fingers licked, lips on fire.
Sated by love.

Daily reminder!
An email flashes onto my screen.
I shake him off, direct my attention to my job at hand, leaving love and longing on hold for a while. I can do this, I smile, all the while shaking my head. I check my emails, send replies off in a flash, make a few calls, take a few photo's, upload pics, update schedule, do coffee (hazelnut & cream) ...Flash Gordon in high heels!

It's him!
"Nat, I was thinking curry for supper tonight!"
"You in the mood for hot & spicy?"
"I can do curry!" I say, "with Naan?"
"We on the same page, darling, pick you up at 5." With a "Luv ya!" he is gone.

Mr Devil-may-care...Caring and sweet!
Tempted, tamed; but never trapped.
My Mr Right.

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Dazed I wake up for a second time, opening heavy lids to find that Monday had dawned softly. Ribbons of red are slowly beginning to caress the darkness as I stretch out lazy like a cat, lying in the middle of the kingsize bed, my thick winter frame engulfed by fleecy bedding the colour of candy floss.
"Sweet!" I utter out loud to an already empty house as soft light filters in through aluminium blinds making stripes like tattoos on my pale skin.
I should get up, but I am perplexed by the day which stretches ahead of me demanding nothing!
I'm at odds, not used to so much time on my hands, "busy" being my usual setting.

I'm beginning to like this new reality.
The ticking clock by my bedside sets a steady rhythm, as all around me the world is on the go, moving in circles. It's as if the world's forgotten about this one, tiny space. In my cocoon I groggily sit up, twisting m…


Furrows deep and pronounced line my brow. I contemplate them,  willing them away, stroking them gently, each stroke meant to iron them out. I am their canvas, they are my storylines.

I seize my ironing, and listen to their tales.
I feel the cold to my bones!

Not the usual Cape Town cold I grew up with in the Southern Suburbs, but an iciness matching any day spent in Tewkesbury more than a decade ago in the UK.  The kind of cold that requires down feather jackets and knee-high fake fur boots.  The kind of cold that leaves sleet on windshields, and soup pots full.
Central heating!Pah! Our homes in Cape Town are ill-equipped for this kinda torture!
I hug my hot water bottle to me like a long lost lover, it's squishy, and pot-bellied and jiggles when I squeeze it. Raising the white mug to my lips, I slurp the almost scalding coffee quickly. My fifth cuppa and it's only 10:42am. Two bars glow bright orange at me. Mikey hogs the heater, and Georgie sits on top of the TV cabinet like a …

Monday, Funday.

Monday dawns with a quiet ease.
I wake up to the sight of the moon, firm and round.
I appreciate it in silence, not ready for him to know I'm awake.
Making the pleasure all the more enjoyable.

It seems the 1st week of Spring has cast a spell on me.

He wanders out of view and I hear bathroom noises.
It's time for me to make a move.
I stretch, lazy like a cat, wanting to remain here (in this spot) still warm from sleeping bodies.
I am entangled in an endless battle with linen.
I fling the offending cotton off heated, sticky skin; hot flashes spreading like veldfire.

The spray of the shower seizes.
Grinning I burrow back in under the covers pretending to sleep.
Gonna stay here and wait for the moon to reappear, wait for my first coffee, and enjoy the intimacy of the early morning when Blouberg is still asleep, and it is just us.

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