The room is dark. The curtains are open. The windows are open, too. She can hear the late-night traffic and the sound of the amber light's warning to BE CAREFUL! She sighs in the heat. Her body is drenched with sweat. It's humid and there is no relief in sight. No aircon.
She peels herself off of the wet bed sheet and takes another cold shower in the dark. Quietly. Things appear so much more acceptable in the dark. Especially him. He's snoring now. He wasn't before. Before, he was grunting and moaning and saying things like I love you and god, you're so hot. Now he's finished his business and she's left alone to finish herself off in a dark shower with cold water making her shiver in delight and relief.
After the shower she pads back to bed barefoot naked as usual. At this time of the year it's best to remain naked as much as possible while at home. The room feels even darker than before. More stifling. She stands in front of the open window, letting the amber light in the distance mesmerize her. She watches the light flick on and off. Her heart beats in time to it. She watches and she waits. Morning will come and the day will repeat itself. He'll wake up horny again. She'll please him again. And the day will get hot and muggy before he comes home to find her waiting and ready for him. Again. She'll stand at this window again, watching the flicking amber light until dawn finds her staring at the orange sun.
In time, she'll age from black hair to gray, to white, then to silver. She'll repeat her nightly ritual until she's too old to stand. He'll die first of course. He was always the first to drop off after the little death he performed once or twice daily. She'd outlive him by at least twenty years. For twenty more years she'll stand at that window, watching the amber and waiting.
One day the amber light stopped flicking on and off. They found her, naked in her wheelchair, sitting at the window as usual. She looked orange in the morning sunlight. Her heart had stopped beating, too. There was a smile on her face, which was still lifted up to the sun. She still waits down there in her final resting place. Though no window and no flashing amber light keep her company.
Are you also waiting for something? I am.
They must have made love over a thousand times by now, he thought. He hummed his own lyrics to the chorus of a song he heard recently. But I would fuck five hundred times, and I would fuck five hundred more, to be the man who fucked that thousand times to fall down at your door. Surrender! Surrender!
It had been a feverish five years of dating, engagement, and marriage. Then surrender. His or hers? He was never sure. He couldn’t get enough of her. Just watching her walk around the house naked, would turn him into a raging sex maniac. He’d wake up in the morning and watch his wife standing naked at the window with the early morning sun shining on her sweaty breasts. He had to have again. And at work, he couldn’t wait to get back home to the love of his life.
At night after work, they would shower together before watching some TV. Well, she’d watch TV and he’d watch her watching TV. Then to bed. No matter how tired he was or how late it was, he always felt the need for one last goodnight kiss which always turned into a goodnight fuck. Eventually he couldn’t go to sleep without it. And finally he couldn’t get out of bed in the morning without it. She didn’t seem to mind, he thought.
The years passed, but his nightly demand for sex never did. At last his heart couldn’t stand the strain and with his last orgasm he deposited himself into the land of the dead one morning in the dawn’s early light.
For the next twenty years he stayed and watched his beautiful wife age and then die at their bedroom window. He had waited for so long. They would be together again, for eternity this time. But he waited in vain. He still waits there at that window with his back to the broken light. She never came to him. He searched for her. He never found her.
If you or I look for her, we’ll find her down there, waiting with her body. He’s waiting for her still, and she’s still and waiting, too. Just waiting. Do you know what you’re waiting for, or are you, like her, just waiting, too?