Recognition

She’s not used to this yet, this absence of come on, come on, let’s go in the morning. It’s still the soundtrack in her head, as she sweeps out of the bathroom, hairbrush in hand, wearing only her skirt and bra. She simultaneously attempts to gather her hair into her barrette and locate her shoes, the apology for running behind at the tip of her tongue, like the twitch of a phantom limb.

He’s leaning calmly back against the pillows on the bed, already dressed save for a couple of open shirt buttons and the tie hanging unknotted around his neck. It’s obvious he’s in no hurry, as he watches her scurrying around the room. You’d think they had all the time in the world.

Roy’s impatience was understandable – after all, he’d had to clock-in at work. Jim risks only a dirty look from Dwight. Still, it’s a relief to no longer feel like everything – a warehouse clock, yet another beer, a pick-up truck horn honking – places her in a distant second.

She slows down.

‘Is that new?’ he gestures at her with his chin, smiling appreciatively.

Of course he means her black lace bra. It’s sheer and dips low and is very girly – no, womanly. She’d bought it on a whim last fall, in those heady days counting down to his return. When she’d expected…well, she wasn’t sure what she expected, but it wasn’t what was.

She’d gone home that first night, when he’d come back with someone else, someone who probably brought suitcases of sexy lingerie with her, and quietly folded the delicate black lace into a tiny bundle. She’d put it away. Sometimes while searching for something else in her underwear drawer, she’d catch a glimpse of it poking out amidst the pale pink and white (mostly cotton) underwear. She’d push it back to the bottom until it was buried, invisible again.

But today she’d dug it out impulsively and put it on, even though it really was a bit much to wear under her blouse, just to go to work.

‘Oh, this? No…’ she stammers. ‘I’ve had it for a while.’

Suddenly self-conscious, she loosely crosses her arms in front of her breasts. He frowns slightly, rubbing his thumb over his mouth as he takes her in, before getting up and coming over to her. He stands close enough that she can smell the herbal scent of his shampoo in his still damp hair. Close enough that she can hear him swallow hard as he tentatively runs one finger along the silky strap at her shoulder, hooking it underneath and giving it a gentle tug. She feels herself flush. 

‘Yeah?’ his voice is low and intimate now. ‘Never seen it before.’

‘I never really wore it…it just didn’t seem like me, so…’

It’s difficult to finish her sentence, when he leans down to graze his lips against her neck.

‘Well, I like it,’ he murmurs, nuzzling just below her ear.

‘And it does…’ his mouth traces along her collar bone, ‘…seem like you.’

He nudges the strap off her shoulder, leaving a soft kiss in its place before concluding, ‘To me.’

She’s still learning to wear it, this version of herself. She knows she can get a reaction from him dressed in pastel cotton underwear and old sweatpants, but this is different. It’s strange and new and she’s not entirely sure what to do with it yet.  

As he pulls her close, her hands instinctively go to him, moving over the contours of his stomach and sides. Even though it’s cool for a summer morning, his skin is hot against her palms, through the thin fabric of his shirt. He continues slowly kissing his way across the top slope of her breasts, leaving a light wet trail, until his tongue skims the satiny edge of her bra. His fingers slide up her back and begin working at the clasp

‘If you like it so much, why are you trying to take it off?’ she teases, almost to steady herself.

She’s as warm as he is now, that familiar flutter deep in her belly taking hold.

‘Guess I just can’t help myself,’ he chuckles, as the hooks finally come undone.

Before she can say anything more, his mouth covers hers, words dissolving against his tongue. She barely notices his hand traveling through her hair, until he pauses at her barrette. When he unfastens it, it feels like a tiny silent explosion. He draws back just enough to see her curls falling in waves around her shoulders, his eyes dark and unfocused. 

‘We’re going to be so late,’ she warns, only by rote, staring hazily back at him.

It’s almost a drug, this not pretending not to want.

‘Do you care?’ he asks through ragged breath.

She forgets how to tell time.

‘No.’

There’s an almost imperceptible clink as the barrette hits the floor. A moment later, it disappears beneath the soft swish of satin and lace.

  ****************** 

They get dressed for the second time that morning. His unbuckled belt, the chaos of his hair tell the tale of how they spent the last half hour while they should have been on their way to work. The vibration of his surrendering moan is still fresh against her neck; the lush ache of him lingers inside her. When she buttons her blouse over the black lace, the sensitive skin on her chest and belly is still pink and alive from rubbing against his.

She imagines later, when the hours inevitably become mind numbing and all this seems light-years away. She’ll look over at him from her desk and their gazes will meet for a second, just like they did this morning. He’ll give her that same private smile. They’ll both know.

Retrieving his tie from where it landed, she walks over to him, stands on her tiptoes and threads it under his collar. He lets her. She remembers how her father taught her to knot a tie when she was a little girl. How grown up she’d felt helping him like that.

‘You’re a woman of hidden talents,’ he’d declare, feigning amazement every time.

But she knew he was only partially joking. It didn’t matter that she was far from a woman, that her talents were yet to be revealed.

Roy almost never wore a tie. When he did, he’d wrestle with it, quickly get frustrated and yell for her to come do it for him.  When he looked at their reflection in the mirror as she corrected the mess he’d made, he only saw himself. If he looked at all.

‘How can you do that backwards?’ Jim asks, watching her form careful loops. He sounds impressed, as if she’s performing a magic trick.

She just shrugs. He’s clearly amused – he’s perfectly capable of tying his own tie - but there’s something else there too. Something like recognition.

‘There,’ she smiles as she finishes, adding with a flourish, ‘Ta da.’

Before they leave, she bends down and picks the barrette up off the floor. It’s pretty and silver and she’s had it forever.

She opens the top drawer of the dresser and puts it away.

*********