The First Oscillator of Spring

It was the First Oscillator of Spring. I held my breath, dropped it and picked it up again. I wiped the mud off it and bundled it up in an old plastic bag for Later.

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Later came through the trees and out into the clearing.

“You’re late, Later,” I said.

“You think you are so fucking funny, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Well, you certainly fuck funny,” she said. “Sometimes I wish I’d kept those photographs. It took ages for that rash to fade.”

I felt myself blush. The blush faded, but I carried on feeling myself. I enjoyed it. I smiled, remembering the photographs, and how they had burnt. I never told Later, but I still, occasionally, had the twinges in my lower back. Those wooden wings had been so heavy, and it had taken several days to remove the splinters.

I turned to watch Later. She was almost completely naked. Only the leather underwear remained – and the harness, of course. I gulped.

She looked up at me. “I see you’re feeling yourself again.” She sighed.

I let my hands drop to my sides.

“Get ’em off then,” she said. “We might as well get this over with. I want my breakfast.”

Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

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