Here is another unedited rough draft excerpt from my latest project titled It Was Her Eyes:
At the touch of my hand on her bare shoulder, our eyes flew open, faces so close that our noses nearly touched. We jerked away in shock, her into the padded back of the chaise, and me falling to the floor. She started to scream but caught herself and slammed her cupped hand into her mouth so hard I heard a sharp slap as she tried to muffle her voice.
We stared at each other in shock. Light from a full moon shined through her windows throwing a soft golden glow throughout the room. She was still nude and was now in nearly the exact position I’d seen in the painting, but her face was tilted downward as she looked at me sprawled on the floor. As impossible as it seemed, she was even more beautiful in person than in the painting.
I stole a glance at myself and saw I was still clad only in my underwear and shorts. I was clearly more concerned about how I was barely dressed than she was about being completely naked.
She regained her composure first, and whispered. “It’s you! I knew you’d come. I was just dreaming of you and here you are.”
I stammered, “But what…How…?”
Her impossibly alluring eyes widened in alarm. She reached down and pressed a long slender finger to my lips and did the same to her own with a finger on her other hand.
“SHHHH! They’ll hear you!” Though only a whisper, I heard in her velvet voice the same urgent desperation I’d sensed from her eyes in the painting.
I stammered again, “This—you—can’t be real! I must be dreaming!” I began to lean away from her. She looked frantic, unsure what to do, then reached out and slapped my face, hard, so hard my eyes watered. I recoiled, stunned. She blurted in a voice that registered desperation and anger, “Do dreams do that?”