Pivotal
The day in question was bright and cloudless, though the sun had scarcely risen and the air outside was still cool. I had no idea this was the case at the time, as the curtains were still drawn from the night before, and I was still asleep, barely. It had been a late night, and my girlfriend had stayed over. The circumstances were far from inauspicious, but at the time, the idea that this day might be the most important of my life was downright inconceivable.
The momentary amnesia of the freshly wakened was quickly dispelled, as I awoke facing her, and viewed her through bleary eyes. Even without my contacts, I could see where her mouth hung slightly open and a small patch of drool had formed on the pillow. Honestly, I found it quite amusing, though she’d probably have thought it looked quite hideous. Of course, I was soon to discover I wasn’t the only one who had a fondness for the unconscious.
Noticing the foul taste of morning breath on my lips, I quietly slid out of bed to brush my teeth. I briefly considered taking a shower, before deciding it would probably be a little more fun if accompanied. When I came back to the bedroom, I thrust open the curtains. The beams of sunlight illuminated her face and the lustre of her auburn hair. She stirred, and groaned.
“What time is it?” she asked.
I noticed her discreetly wipe away the line of spittle that was now horizontal on her right cheek, and slightly less discreetly glancing at my crotch. Morning wood was in full effect.
“It’s Saturday,” I told her, “you don’t have to go to work today.”
I returned the gaze, a little dismayed at her decision to put one of my shirts on before going to sleep last night. She always did feel the cold more than I did.
“I’d still like to know,” she said, holding up a hand to keep the sun from her eyes.
I saw the little smile cross her face, the one she uses when she’s noticed me checking her out. I flashed a little grin of my own, and reached for my watch.
“It’s quarter past seven... ish.”
She gave no sign that that information was of particular importance. It probably wasn’t.
“You’re seriously cutting into my beauty sleep, you know?”
I stepped forward and clambered onto the bed. Our lips met, for a second or ten. Her tongue sought out the minty freshness still clinging to my mouth.
“At least it’s not anything you really need, then.”
My plans at that point revolved around getting her out of bed, out of my shirt and into the shower, and getting clean whilst getting oh-so-dirty.
In retrospect, I am reminded of that old idiom about the best-laid plans of mice and men. Of course, I couldn’t expect what was actually about to happen, seeing as how it was so far outside the range of my expectations. I don’t think that Shona knew it was going to happen either. As far as I can tell, it was a spur of the moment decision. But I do not know, and perhaps she had had thoughts, or inklings, or even plans for some time.
What I do know is that, as I supported my upper body weight with my hands atop her recumbent form, I noticed that I still held the watch in my hand, and it was digging into my palm. As we broke away, I leaned back, and held it up to examine it.
It was a faux antique, mass produced to appear approximately 70 years older than it actually was. I had bought it to go with a waistcoat, when I had gone through a slight steampunk phase, though I hadn’t worn it since then.
I wish that instead of the watch, I had been looking at Shona’s face at that moment, when she saw it in my hand. I wish I could have seen if and how she reacted to it. I have often imagined exactly what look crossed her face, and I daresay this one area in which I am ignorant will continue to bother me for years to come. However, I do recall what she said.
“Give it here, I want to try something.”
Innocuous enough. If you’d given me a moment to name things she might do with a pocket watch, my first guess would have been some kind of odd trick. I daresay there are tricks which can be done using a pocket watch, indeed it could probably be used as a fairly clumsy yo-yo, though I’ve never looked into the matter. A few moments more to contemplate and perhaps I would have considered the possibility having it swung in front of my face and told I was feeling very sleepy.
I handed over the watch, and she took the end of the chain between her thumb and forefinger, and just held it there, hanging straight down. I had already decided that whatever it was, it would be best to just act impressed.
“I want you to look at the face of the watch for me, really concentrate.”
Had she not been wearing a shirt, I would never have been able to focus solely on the watch, and perhaps both of our lives would have veered off in very different directions. As it was, I stared at the watch, and focused on the movement of the second hand. Eight seconds passed before spoke again.
“I know it looks like the watch is staying perfectly still, but if you look closely enough, you’ll notice that it does move, almost imperceptibly, in all sorts of different directions, and if you follow it closely you can see how actually, it’s moving all the time.”
I had to concentrate a little harder to pick up on the tiny movements generated by the very slight unsteadiness of her outstretched arm. It moved in all different directions, twisting anti-clockwise just a little as the chain sought to become perfectly straightened out.
“But the movement you see is partially the movement of the watch relative to your eyes, and partially the movement of your eyes relative to the watch. If you lie back for me, you’ll be able to keep yourself still and just track the movement of the watch.”
Had I known what was happening, the fact that I didn’t think about whether or not I really wanted to do that would have been a pretty major clue. But I missed it. I compliantly shifted and rolled, until I was lying back with my head on the pillow, and she leaned over me. I was now viewing the watch from below, and its slow rotation became more apparent to me. I noted without really thinking that it definitely did seem easier to follow it now.
“Yes, that’s much easier, I know it is. Now you don’t need to concentrate quite so hard to follow the watch, you can relax just a little more, and you’ll just keep watching it, without having to make any real effort at all.”
I seemed to sink into the comfort of the bed. There was something strangely compelling about the movement of the watch, though I couldn’t put my finger on it at all. I wanted to see if there was some pattern to its movements, beyond the apparent randomness of the motion, but it was quite difficult to remember where it had just been from one moment to the next. If I’d been a little more perceptive, I’d have noticed that I wasn’t noticing anything else in my field of vision.
“Yes, you want to stay here and just follow the motion of your watch for a while. It seems like a good way to pass the time. You feel so relaxed right now, you just want to stay this way.”
It felt like the words she was saying had come straight from my brain, and she was just vocalising things I already knew. I felt numb, and calm, if I felt anything at all.
At this point, I can confidently say that I was four seconds away from the single most important moment of my life. Everything was quiet and still enough that I could her the tick of the second hand, counting out time.
I heard it tick forwards twice, and then I heard Shona shift her weight on the bed slightly. The sound of cotton sliding over pale skin as she stretched out her free arm. The slight whiff of the perfume she had worn the night before as her hand moved in front of my face. Then, it happened. She lightly tapped my forehead.
“Sleep.”
When next I became self-aware enough to be correctly called conscious, I had showered and dressed, though my lack of recollections didn’t phase me in the slightest. Somewhere at the back of my mind I reasoned that I must have zoned out a little. I knew it was time for breakfast. If truth be told, I wanted a croissant, but that would have meant buying one specially, an idea which did not appeal. I made do with toast, and a thin layer of marmite. As I came to the kitchen table Shona was already sat there, still in the tattered old shirt that hung loose from her frame. But something was different. As she looked up at me, over her spoonful of corn flakes, I felt something entirely new, something that stopped me in my tracks. For a moment we stared at each other, as I tried to understand what was happening.
I fell to my knees before her, hoping against hope that she would deem me worthy of her time. I wish here, again, that I had seen the look on her face, this time as I knelt in supplication before her. I always imagine a broad grin spreading across her cheeks, as she sees my first display of devotion towards her. She spoke to me with the voice of a divine being.
“That’s correct, my dearest.”
She was pleased with me, and that was how I knew all was right with the world.
“Come to me, and show me your appreciation.”
I crawled to her with joy in my heart, delighted at being tasked with bringing the most wonderful woman in the world to orgasm.
She’s made more changes since then, of course. I’m still a work in progress, though she never tells me when I’ve been modified. Whenever I become aware of a new one, I come before her, and make sure to watch her reaction as I tell her what she did to me. Those are always the moments when she’s at her most beautiful.
Nowadays, I know that everything I think and feel is there because she causes me to think and feel that way. But that’s OK. Shona made me think that that’s the most wonderful thing in the world.