It’s warm…

It’s dark, quite, with the exception of soft music streaming from my laptop….Eight Wave’s Panama Bazaar. I have put it on repeat. For only a moment I’m not here, my mind is travelling far, to distant locations, most of them places I’ve never been too. Like Zanzibar, Petra, the Sahara and Damaskus.

Reinout just came back. He’s hot and goes for a shower. I watch him in the dark window reflecting the bright lit bathroom. I like watching him, especially when he doesn’t know it. I enjoy my self-proclaimed status of a voyeur. And I don’t find any embarrassment in saying so. In fact it’s been a little hobby of mine I’ve engaged in since early childhood.

…But my preoccupation ends abruptly as he steps out after seemingly less than a minute, throws casually a towel around the waist and emerge in the bedroom. Accidentally, or not, he wakes up Sebastian. He’s not in a happy mood and starts to cry. He’s warm too. “Is it just me, or is it very warm” Reinout asks. I look at him, and after a pregnant pause I reply….”it’s warm”