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Running into the living room, I ran to answer it. As I opened the door, I called out the food was here. Alisha came out of the bedroom in a crimson silk robe. Shaking my head, I opened the door to pay for the food. The delivery guy was pretty cute, but I felt that I had seen him before. Eager to see what was under her robe, I dismissed the thought from my head. He worked at the deli, so I attributed the feeling to that. We paid and tipped the man. After sending him on his way, I went to the kitchen to get the drinks. Opening the sandwiches, we began to eat. They were delicious. "Want a salad?" she asked me. "Sure," I said. Alisha went to the kitchen. "You want cucumber in it?" she yelled. I hollered back that I did. When she came back from the kitchen, I noticed the cucumber, but no salad. She came back to the table, grabbed my hand, and led me to the bedroom. The confusion was clearing in my mind. She pushed me back on the bed and straddled my hips. Laughing, she rubbed the. It wasn't always cocoa--he used to bring me an Irish coffee or maybe a glass of wine. Eventually we both realized that it was becoming more Irish than coffee or it was a bottle of wine instead of a glass, and by slow mutual consent he stopped bringing it, and I stopped needing it. I never stopped wanting it, but as long as I was wrapped in his arms and could feel the strength of his chest against my back, the need was never quite as strong as I remember it.I still sit by the fire. I still drink cocoa, and I still wrap myself in the blanket and watch the flames flick their orange and red tongues against the charred brick. But without the feel of his heart against my back, I'm starting to feel the need. And it scares me. A little bit.Back in the beginning we met. We were both in the University Theatre Department. I was there to perfect my craft and emerge the next Dame Judi. He was there to revolutionize technical design and theatre management. We both fell a bit short of our dreams,.
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