With the dawn and the dew

In the dim light of a new dawn… Stacy woke up crusty and cold. Above and either side of her, two bodies snored and slumbered. Her closest allies in all the world. The girl realised that, despite all they’d done together, she had never seen them both asleep before… It was usually her that dropped into blackness first after all. Sitting up… she simply watched them both for awhile. Counting the seconds between the subtle rise and fall of their chests. They looked so young and vulnerable now… so innocent. In need of protecting. Though whether by her… or FROM her… she just couldn’t decide. Their lives had been very different before she came along. Of that much she was certain.

A call of nature roused her from her thoughts. It was probably what woke her up in the first place as well. She stood up quietly, and tried to navigate a safe path through the heaps of junk and dirty boxers that littered Mark’s floor. That strange feeling: of trespassing in someone else’s home in the hours before they woke, both overtook and enveloped her. Made all the more so by the fact that she was completely naked save for the several dried patches of semen the boys had dressed her with last night. She tiptoed along the landing, not in fear so much as thrilled trepidation. It was one and the same as those exhibitionist thrills she seemed so addicted to chasing. A lesser cousin of feeling, perhaps? It was strange, to be so aware of your own presence. The prickle of your own hairs over electrified skin. It occurred to her that, in the end, self consciousness was at the heart of all arousal.

After she had finished in the bathroom… something in the seeping grey light called to her. Stacy crept downstairs through the immeasurably thick silence of these twilit hours. At the foot of the staircase the front door beckoned. She slipped through it with ethereal confidence. Outside the green world glistened with a fresh, clean coating of dew. It was cold… But not unbearably so. The scintillating feel of air upon skin refreshed and awoke her, to seem more awake than she ever had before. She stepped down onto the lawn and let each blade of grass leave its own tickle between her toes.

Around about her suburbia slumbered from here to the horizon. She was sure its thousand nosy senses would have been delightedly aghast to know about the naked cumrag in its midst. But no-one was available to scoop up that gossip. In the far distance the girl could hear car engines rumbling, yet they were nothing more than a backdrop. She skipped across the lawn, simply because no-one could stop her. She danced and twirled on her shining, slippery stage. Raising her arms and legs in ways she hadn't thought she still could, since abandoning her young interest in gymnastics.

A milk float turned onto her street from a sideroad. He slowed down to a crawl and whistled when he saw her, but did not stop completely. She gave another special swirl… Just for him. Filled with the confidence that his opinion didn't matter. He wasn't going to recognise her, or tell anyone that mattered. She would become just another anecdote for his workmates, served with beers at end of day. They wouldn't believe him… Or would want to, but never find her. She was a ghost of the morning light, a mirage in the rising sun.

Of course, next to arrive was the paperboy… And he nearly fell off his bike. By the time he'd regained control again; she had disappeared. He scanned every hedgerow hopefully, not quite sure what to believe. Before setting off again begrudgingly, another young heart broken. By the time he reached the next bend, Stacy had slipped back between Mark and Peter. She burrowed herself under the covers this time… And slept for a thousand more hours.