Well all the preparations for Christmas are more or less done. Primarily, I have all the drugs I need (meds I mean!) to see me through. Looking forward to having loads of family across and it will be a couple of days of feasting. There are people that I won't see on the day, and that is of course sad, but thoughts can always be of those that aren't with us.

Here are a few words fashioned into a fiction that I am working on. It is along the lines of my Short Story 'A Storm In The Night'

Alone With Me

Henry looked across at Catherine as she sat brushing her hair in front of the mirror. That her reflection couldn’t be seen didn’t seem to matter to either of them. He loved the way that she slowly brushed her hair, one section at a time, ensuring that the brush went to the very ends without a snag or tangle. When she had finished brushing, Catherine would sit and pull out a number of Alice bands and select just the right one for her mood. The strange thing was he could never work out her mood from the colour of her band.
After brushing her hair, Catherine would usually cleanse her face with that wonderful makeup from the specialist makeup supplier based on the Isle of Wight. Henry always had to make sure that there was a good stock – and often kept a weather eye out for special deals and collections that promised so much value for money. To be honest, he quite liked using some of the products himself – especially for shaving. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone of course. Just he and Catherine knew, and Catherine would not dream of embarrassing him by letting little secrets like that out. Of that he was quite sure.
He had picked up a bit of a bargain for her just the other day, and wondered if she would spot it. Some nail foil that would give her a magical super shiny polish on her nails, it would go so well with her dark purple hair band. He had carefully put the small foil kit in her makeup drawer at the dressing table – she always preferred to find her surprises rather than be given them.
Catherine completed brushing her hair and opened the drawer that housed her Alice bands. Catherine picked out a few, one at a time, and placed them on the dresser surface in front of her. She seemed to narrow her choice to a burgundy or a green, giving Henry a moments disappointment, that he quickly hid behind a mask of neutrality as he looked across at her.
“Silly,” Catherine said, “I am only teasing. You know I will go for purple – I could not let pass your present, now could I?” Henry got up and walked across to her, bent forward and kissed the crown of Catherine’s head, the scent of orange blossom and lavender strong in his nostrils, after tones of vanilla followed him as he returned to his seat and watched once more as his wife completed her toilette.
“Hmm that was a lovely kiss; I don’t know what I did to deserve that, but thank you. I do love that after shave you have on to day. Is it Xeryus?”
“Yes, my Love, I was going to go with the Dolce today, but somehow, felt I wanted something more passionate in aroma. Xeryus does it us every time. But it seems a shame to just use the one scent. The Dolce is great for everyday use, you know, like when I am in the office and not going to see you.”
“But darling, you do see me at the office. We so often have lunch together, or even a morning breakfast snack. And I do so love it when we rid up to the escarpment and look across the valley, holding hands. It is as if we were King and Queen of the whole world and that we were looking down on our dominion. Gods, you and I, Gods”
“Yes my love, I know, but I save the Xeryus for other special occasions, such as now, when it is only you and I, and no one else to share our moments with. “
Henry arose and left the bedroom and headed down to the dining room. As he passed the landing window he looked out and saw Mrs Mitchell unloading her supermarket shopping from the boot of her small car. In the dining room, Henry opened the globe and selected a fine Caribbean dark rum and two tall glasses. He went to the freezer and filled the glasses with ice, before pouring the rum over, about half filling each glass. A quick slice of lime in each glass, and then he topped up with Vanilla Cola for him, and Cherry Cola for Catherine.
“Thank you Darling” she said as she took the glass from him, turning back up the hallway to return upstairs.
“I would have bought it up to you, you know.” Henry said to her naked retreating back. “And you really ought to wear clothes when the drapes aren’t drawn. You know that Mr Sampson has a poor heart and a view of you passing is sure to bring along his!”
“Don’t mock” She called back as she sat once more at the dresser and prepared to add the foil to her nails – each perfectly manicured and shaped in the square French style, rather than the popular American style, a style so readily adopted by the English girls. ‘A shame’, Catherine had once said to Henry, ‘that these girls today only seem to be educated by Hollywood films, and not by classical French cinema.’
Catherine carefully applied the foil adhesive to her nails, very slowly and very assuredly – ensuring no spillage on her quicks or cuticles. Each nail started off a slight pink, and when the adhesive dried to a clear shine, it was time to add the foil, pressing and ensuring that the foil folded to the very edge of each nail, before pulling off the foil backing to leave behind a high mirror finish – a finish that no mere liquid polish would ever reproduce.
Having completed her hair, her face and her nails, Catherine applied a single coat of liquid shimmer to her lips – no colour, just a very wet looking top coat and turned to look at Henry who was standing in the door way.
Henry turned away – he could not stand to see her looking so beautiful. It hurt him deep into the pit of his stomach, leaving an ache that could never be soothed. Henry turned away and looked up straight into Catherine’s eyes. Catherine was now in front of him in the hallway. He hated it when she did that. She leant forward and kissed him fully on the lips, a slow pressure, heat rising between them as her lips pressed on his, her tongue gently probing, her body – still unclothed – pushing against him as her passion transferred from passive mode. Caring not that the neighbours could see them had they chosen to glance up at the unclothed window at that precise moment. Henry and Catherine kissed and caressed and loved in the confines of the upper hallway, and as they slowly sank to their knees, Henry’s hands sought and found the orbs of her breasts, cupped their weight and gently squeezed.
Catherine slipped her hand under his shirt and rubbed his chest before slowly undoing the buttons and sliding the shirt off his back, and then kissing his slightly hirsute chest in a triangular pattern of manly nipple to manly nipple to navel and then back to a nipple. Whilst her lips worked at his upper body, her hands worked at the waist of his trousers as she sought to free him from their confines.
As he lay naked, he looked up and caught the glisten that was a tear in the corner of her eye, a tear that formed and dropped to his chest, and read her lips as she silently mouthed her love for him. Catherine settled slowly down on him, her readiness finding him with ease, allowing no resistance on him entering her. Henry arched his back as Catherine clenched her muscles to hold him tight, and then with so little movement of her body she silently rocked, relaxing and tightening her muscles in a rhythm that soon had him on the brink.
Henry closed tight his eyes and tried to keep the boiling at bay, her muscles driving him almost into a frenzy of sensation and love and as he thought that failure was upon him she slowed and stopped and her muscles relaxed. She leant forward to kiss him and as he felt her lips on his Catherine raised herself slightly and released him. Catherine turned and gently sat facing his feet, slowly she moved her body back and her head down until Henry could feel her breath slowly stirring the fire that smouldered in his groin, a breath that waned and dissolved like the thinness of a spring mist.
A huge sadness descended on Henry as Catherine once more went from his view and his presence, and 'Once more,' he thought, 'I am alone with me.'