I sat in the chair smoking as they lounged on the bed. The sheet covered nothing and their downy naked bodies were slick with sweat.
My coffee was hot and steaming and I could see the city beginning to wake up through the window as her hand slipped to his thigh and brushed the side of his cock without thought. He twitched as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in to kiss the top of her head.
The stereo was stuck on repeat–Nina Simone still singing from the night before–and I watched as he calmly grew hard. Her hand moved from grazing to gripping without a sound. The only tension was in his left leg, his toes stretched out and the muscles in his thigh taut and beautiful.
He sat up as I took another drag and she slid lower until she took him in her mouth. His smile was broad and warm and I slouched down in the chair as I wondered why it felt so easy. It was only when he was wet and swollen that a sigh escaped his lips, but still she moved with the lethargy of a cat in the window.
I crushed out my cigarette and felt the sun against my cheek. A car honked and in the kitchen, the coffee stopped percolating. He gently lay her down, her head at the foot of the bed as he slipped between her legs. She smiled at me as he rubbed against wet skin.
It occurred to me that I might have time to stop by The Strand on my way back from therapy. I had drinks at two-thirty with my old professor, and a gift was probably in order. The third floor is where the old books live and maybe I’d find a signed copy of something obscure.
They fucked so slowly I had time to refresh my coffee without them noticing I was gone. The room smelled of Camels and sex. It smelled of hot coffee and damp spring. Nina lost herself in the lilacs as I stared out the window at the tourists on Bleecker St.
The morning lingered in the air like a warm and lazy breeze.