Chapter 6

The next morning I woke up exhausted and a little disoriented. My head was aching after the beers at the restaurant, the half of the bottle of Pinot Gris, the two cognacs, and that final, dastardly Nikka that I had consumed that evening at Nawra’s behest. The image of her swirled around pleasantly in the foggy incoherence of my barely-awake mind. I could still smell her, and as as my memory tried to integrate my other sensory impressions of her – remembering the smoothness of her skin, and the pressure of her body on top of mine – my body began to register its current location and the slippery expanse of Nawra’s silk sheets came more clearly into mental focus.

As I stretched a little, reaching outward to hopefully sneak another cheeky squeeze of my lover, I felt around in vain. While happily piled under a mountain of blankets, I was, in fact, alone.

The absence of my lover was significant enough to clear most of the fog from my mind, and, anxious to see her again, I slowly slunk out of the bed, put on my underwear, and made my way out of her room tentatively.
As the door to her living room creaked open, I saw her right away, posed in a tight runner’s lunge on her yoga mat. She was dressed in yoga garb that clung to every fold, crease, curve, and bulge her body had to offer. With a thin sheen of sweat covering her body, her curls safely sinched up on top of her head, this sensuous athleticism was yet another dimension of her physical presence I took in with wonder.

While her gaze stayed firmly fixed on the wall, she called out to me as the door opened fully.

“Ah, you’re up!”

I gave a part-grumble-yawn-affirmative-grunt.

“You ’re cute when you sleep, you know that?”

I only blushed in response.

She transitioned from the lunge into a plank that she held for a moment, and then seamlessly into a downward dog - I could hear the shift of fabric from different body parts rubbing against one another intermingled with her smooth and steady breath.

“Are you hungry at all?”

The prospect of another meal with her made the back of my neck tingle and blood come to the surface of my skin.

“Yeah, I think I’ll need something soon.”

“Nothing crazy, mind you. I still need a little time to work off last night.”

She walk-crawled her way to a standing position, bowed her hands and head together, and broke her connection to the mat. Toweling herself off, she walked over to me, breasts heaving in the confines of a sports bra that, while looking a little worn on its own, had reached its zenith of achievement in having the honour to hoist her phenomenal rack.

Closing the gap, just as she had last night, she came over, kissed me on the cheek, and then sashayed her way to the kitchen.

This version of Nawra felt different yet again - she was all there, still. The sensuousness, the force of her personality, but there was an ineffable “different-ness” that projected outwards as I watched her head into the kitchen and start to throw fruit into a blender and crack eggs into the pan.

I didn’t think my face projected anything, but she seemed to sense my confusion as I walked after her into the kitchen.

“What? Were you thinking we’d go at a stupendous stuffing all over again, a big English-style breakfast overflowing the sides of the table, and you’d watch me push myself to the edge of oblivion after a Soddom and Gomorah-level of debauchery last night?”

Dumbstruck, I didn’t say anything. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but as she said it, my entire body lit up in a mixture of anxiety and arousal.

Ever a step ahead of me, she winked and smiled mirthfully.

“Patience, my dear. Contrasts, remember?”

My stomach growled hungrily in response.