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All I hear is unspoken words, even though we never said to each other we knew something was missing in our lives. Why is it like we know but act like we don't know? I have never felt like this before or am I just overreacting? Never mind, I am glad that I have been called for a meeting with Eliana ma'am. She informed me that it was a formal family get together so that I would get a picture of how her kids were. But, the word family get-together has stuck in my brain which I am unable to shove off. Even he would be present there. It's strange. I don't want to feel for someone older than me this way. Especially not for someone who is married and has kids. He was an elder person but I could see the young boy in him still yearning to return to his train set. Behind that cold aura, he held a soul waiting to put down the facade to be himself all over silly and happy. But I can't deny the fact that a single glance at him made my heart warm with unknown emotions. The warmth deep in his soul when he looked at me or maybe it's just an illusion. Illusion? These things are messing up my mind. 

I made coffee and sat on the ragged couch. The coffee which I made was incredibly tasteless, but by now I was used to it. I did sleep with a few men in my eighteen years but never fell in love with anyone. I have never believed in love at first. I don't believe that a mere glance at a person's appearance or physique is a sufficient way to initiate love. Crawling over my bed which was my cosy hug, a warm place to dream. My mind is full of unsaid things. I love the softness, quietness, and sense of rest. It is the safe harbour from which my soul plays with the black heavens, communicating in the language of the stars and feeling the sweetness of the soul-ether. Exhausted from the events I allowed my eyelids to rest, incoming darkness to overpower me. 

Upon waking up my brain replays the last few scenes of my dreams. I remember walking towards a huge mansion, similar to the one I had gone to for the interview. Adjusting my vision to the darkness, I walked up to the windows, staring while everyone was in their homes living their lives - or at least believing they were. 

“Amana, isn't that your name? ”A whisper whose tongue I remember resonated against my ears. My heart thumped with heavy emotion. I say, taking a quick breath remembering to smile. “I didn’t see you standing there. Why have you come?" I cross my arms, pretending to look mad. His eyebrows fly up, surprised. For a moment he stares at me and then steps forward, "Would you like to join me?" He utters each word carefully, wrapping his arms around my waist and stares up at me with a sweet, secret smile. Dimples. “Would you like that, baby girl?” he asks. “Want me to remind you who you belong to? Who have you always belonged to?” 

His eyes are so different in moments like these, softer than I knew eyes could be. The professional man is gone and instead it is the eyes of one who loves deeply. His lips caught mine in a hard kiss, driving them apart with the force of it. There was nothing gentle about it. I felt the door rattle against my back as he shifted, pressing me against it, taking my face between his hands. My thoughts seemed to be looped, I can't think straight. The taste of him feels familiar and that's strange. "Who are you?" His fists tangle in my curls, pulling it with slight force. Bunching up the hem of my dress and yanking it upwards. His hands slipped under the material to skim the smooth skin of my waist, to grip her hip, hard. "You don't know who I am?" He utters in a brisk voice parting my legs with his thighs. A desperate sound escapes through my throat, as he touches my prohibited parts and I knew this was the beginning of the endless waves of pleasure and desire. 

Every thought in my head exploded to a pure, pounding white, and I felt the dark curl of desire begin to twist inside me. He's married, my mind tried to warn me. I must not go too far. No, he said, as if he could read my inner turmoil, bringing my lips back to his. It was just like it had been before. I slid my hands under his jacket to press him closer. The low groan at the back of his throat, a small, pleading noise that set every inch of my skin on fire. He looked directly into my eyes while lifting my hips, just slightly, and inch-by-inch, he slowly filled me. I shuddered and my legs unconsciously twitched. My eyes nearly roll back, breath lodged in my throat. After a while, when he stops I calm myself down. His grip loosens off my body. 

"Sir?" I mumble as I watch him disappear into thin air. Like smoke. I sit straight on my bed, switching on the lamps. He was nowhere to be found. We made love just a second before but the bedsheets weren't dirty yet I did feel the after effects of sex. Was I hallucinating? These hallucinations were the same as being tortured for real, all of the emotions, all of the trauma, and none of the empathy that would come with such a real-life ordeal. 

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