I’m not at all sure how to make this the experience I’m trying to convey. But so far, my muse put this together.
He was different. He didn’t even pretend to see anyone else. It was unnerving how he held her captive with that look. She didn’t like it, he saw too much. When he reached out his hand, a simple gesture humans had been doing for years; his fingertips caressed her cheek. She came undone. He should not have known how to touch her, what to say. The instinctual way he moved her, with her, inside her. His voice in her ear, she forgot to be afraid. Forgot to put the bolt on the gate. Her feelings ran freely about her body, he tamed each one he came across. Her fear, the wildest of the team. It took him no time to break her but not for want of control.
I’m not sure how to describe what happens when a man suddenly, unexpectedly means something to a woman; a woman who up to this point, hadn’t allowed herself to feel anything for a man. A woman who in fact, saw any kind of emotion as the ultimate weakness. I was raised by such a woman and I often wonder what life was like for her; was she lonely? Did she miss the simple affections? Sometimes I feel sad that maybe she did. I’m realizing that I certainly do. I think about the time I was so walled off that I refused to accept what he was saying; refused to believe anyone could think the words he was saying to me.
That’s a hard feeling to describe, to put into the mind of my character. I’m going to keep at it though as this love scene is pivotal to the whole story. Without it, you won’t feel for him as he sits alone with his bourbon and she alone with the longing for his touch dancing just below the surface of her skin.
Rough drafting real life is not nearly as easy as I had imagined.