Real Romance

Brightest darkness.

The lights are off. There are no candles. There are no lamps. There are no fancy light arrangements. But the TV screen sprays light colours that reflect off the walls. It brightens the darkest of rooms.

But the two of them don't notice.

The stereo is off. The radio switched off. The CD's stacked aside and the tape recorder is empty. The window is open and the only thing heard is the engine of cars new and old.

But the two of them don't even realise.

The fan turns slowly and blows an invisible breeze. The cold air sweeps though the open window. The two combine and it circulates the room leaving a smell of fresh air with one of heat.

But the two of them don't seem to care.

A hand reaches out. A leg wraps around a waist. A sweet touch of lips followed by a fiery lash. A fumble of clothes and a toss of pillows. There's no mercy.

Just the two of them.

She doesn't need the candles, the soft music or the slow burning fire inside her. She needs him. She needs to feel him, he needs to feel her.

That's the real romance.