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I knew he was going to come because his thrusting stilled. I didn't stop drawing on him, pulling on his, urging him. He came with a louder moan than the previous week. I swallowed twice, the bitter, salty taste mixed with honey. When his fingers came out of my hair, the stickiness pulled. I kissed him. I knew he could taste himself. "You're going to need a shower," I told him. "I am too." "We could, together," he said, so hesitant that I hated to say no. "In my apartment?" I answered. "I can't yet. I'm trying." "I can see that in your art." I stood and kissed him again. "Don’t take off the blindfold until you hear the front door. Understand?" "Yes," he said in a resigned voice. I went back to my apartment and back up to my bedroom, still sticky. My hair clumped around strings of honey. I went to the window and waited. I must have sat there for more than an hour. Then, I saw a flutter at the window. Someone was moving in the studio enough to move the curtains. I smiled to myself. #. ‘With the wife expectin’ another little lad, I truly need the money.’ ‘Yes, you and me, both. Daniel, that lazy bloke, is going to freeload from us as long as he is able. I can see it now,’ Padraig spouted. A knapsack tucked neatly under their arm, easily identified the men and women seeking labor. Michael and Padraig picked up their pace when they rounded the bend and had seen the crowd. The sun beat down upon them as they mingled their way toward the front of the long line. Several rows of laborers filed in, awaiting the same, the hope for a job that would carry them through the planting and harvest season. The hiring fair was an annual event in this small town in Ireland. Partially to celebrate the end of the winter months, but also for the farmers to find seasonal help to get them through the harvest months. The farmers would wander through the crowds in search of young healthy servants. The cool breeze was a welcomed change from the baking heat on that spring day. The heat.
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