tea - Chapter 4, Part I

If I pour your cup, that is friendship
If I add your milk, that is manners
If I stop there, claiming ignorance of taste,
That is tea

But if I measure the sugar
To satisfy your expectant tongue
Then that is love,
But if I measure the sugar
To satisfy your expectant tongue
Then that is love,

Sitting untouched and growing cold
~Cowboy Junkies (Cold Tea Blues)

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REBECCA HAD BROKEN HER CARDINAL RULE. She had allowed another to enter her sanctuary-her abode, her tranquility. Strangely with this one, she felt at ease even though he could be at times rather uncouth. And the arrogance that he wore like a cape grated against all her natural instincts. But that smirk, the way his lips curled slightly upward and the way his eyes twinkled stirred something primal and licentuous deep within her. She wanted to at once bite them, lick them, taste them. She tossed her long flowing hair, now slowly drying, away from her face and focused back on her task.
The swinging door that led to the kitchen remained slightly ajar - she kept meaning to fix the damnable hinge, one of many things to do in this ancient house. But now it allowed her to sneak unbidden peeks into her living room. She felt like a school girl that had just stumbled on her daddy's porno magazines in the basement. Nervous excitability, as her mother called it, fluttered in her belly. A sort of morbid curiosity governed her movements. The tingle of danger, of having a stranger inside her home, both tickled her scalp and leaked wetness from between her thighs. She could just make out his form from this angle, his legs outstretched across the ottoman. At least he had the decency to remove his shoes. Or else she would have kicked him out into the storm that was building outside. The kitchen window rattled suddenly as a gust of wind lashed against the pane making her jump almost out of skin. She very nearly dropped the spoon. The rain was coming down in sheets, pelting the glass with sparkling beads of water that ran down in little rivulets.
He appeared to be relaxed and at home within her jumbled world of artifacts and knick-knacks that she had managed to accumulate during her many travels. He hadn't said a word since they walked in. She wondered if he had fallen asleep. That would be most inconvenient, she smirked to herself. She picked up the finely polished antique silver tray, the china set perfectly upon the reflective surface and pushed forth into the main room. He sat up as he heard the squeak of the hinges and looked at her. A shiver ran through her. Her nipples hard and erect chaffed painfully against the lace of her blouse. The tray rattled slightly as she came around in front of him,
why was she so self-conscious?
setting it down on the wooden scrolled coffee table. She lingered momentarily bent over. She couldn't help herself. She knew as she straightened up, without even looking at him that he had drunk in the sight of her cleavage. She ran her hands down her sides, smoothing down the dark red blouse giving herself one more moment to regain her composure. He seemed to command such control over her, and she would be damned if she was going to let him know this.

"Cream, honey or sugar?" She asked with a smirk to her voice.

He peered up at her for a moment, those dark eyes smouldering dangerously in the fire light. His hair that flowed past his shoulders now curled tightly about his shoulders as it had dried. She noticed a tinge of weariness in the corners of his mouth. In the shadows of her living room, he suddenly looked weary as if he had been on a journey of a thousand miles. Where had he gone in those few minutes she had left him alone?
A twig snapped and hissed as it died in the fireplace. The fire roared briefly, the glowing tongues licking the blackened stones as sudden heat radiated outwards. They both turned to look at the fire works, breaking the moment between them as if a magician had snapped his cloth. He smiled then, a surprising warm smile that almost matched the warmth of the fire. His eyes twinkled again as he gazed up at her.

"Cream and two sugars, please m'lady". The crows feet that edged the corners of his eyes deepened as his gaze tripped across her face, "I like my poison sweet".

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