Heart and Sunlight Ch. 01

I watch as they unbutton their light blue linen shirt. A warm breeze blows through the open window, tousling their long, dark, curly hair. In the soft light, their skin appears to glow. "Do you need any help with that?" I ask, smiling.

They let the shirt fall to the floor. "No, but I think you need some help with this," they reply, stepping toward me and moving their hands down my torso to the hem of my shirt. They lift it up and over my head, then take my face in their hands and brush their lips on mine. I kiss back, harder. As their hands roam over my skin, I press into their body and feel them already hard. I move my hand down to the zipper of their pants--

I wake to the soft chime of my alarm. Morning light streams into my bedroom through the sheer curtains. Time to get up. Why must the timing be so terrible? I've been dreaming about Daza for weeks, but I never seem to get to follow through. I turn off my alarm and close my eyes, trying to bask in the warmth of the dream for a few more moments. My hands wander. I lazily reach under my cotton sleep shirt with one hand, dragging my fingers lightly across my stomach, then across my breasts and nipples. The other hand I slip under the waistband of my shorts and let out a sigh, imagining Daza's hands in place of mine.

Daza is an artist who lives in the same apartment building as me. They are tall and wiry, soft-spoken and thoughtful. We met after I kept seeing them in the open-air common area painting or drawing when I went there to read. We became close, and we talk a lot, but I don't know if they know how badly I want to...well. I want them caressing my breasts like this, teasing my erect nipples. I want to look into their deep brown eyes and kiss their mouth. I want to take their penis in my hand, stroke it up and down. I want their penis inside me, want to feel its hard length deep in my vagina.

As I'm imagining this, I feel how wet I am, and slowly trace circles around my clit. Before long, I'm aching with desire, and I can't hold myself back. With each stroke, every nerve burns. I feel the nub grow and harden under my touch, and I arch my back and let out an involuntary moan. A wave of warmth grips me and washes over me, and I shudder in orgasm. I lay on my bed, unmoving, for a moment, feeling the tension drain and my muscles relax one by one. Slowly I open my eyes, a soft smile on my lips. A good way to start the day.

I take a short shower, the water sharp on my still-sensitive skin, then prepare a breakfast of oats and jackfruit. I look out the window of my small living space. I'm high in the city. Gray buildings covered by blue solar-panelled rooftops and festooned with balcony vegetable gardens surround me, with trees and brick-paved roads at street level. At this time in the morning, the day isn't too hot, and people are out walking and biking.

I'm about to join them. I work as an operator for the floating offshore wind farm: four days a week I take the maglev subway twenty minutes to the coast, where I check the weather models and monitor the wind turbines maneuvering into the optimal position. It's April, and the weather is starting to get hot. Strong and unpredictable winds and waves are a challenge for the wind turbines, and it's my job to keep the turbines running smoothly and powering the city, even as year by year the climate gets more chaotic. We may have successfully reduced our carbon emissions to near zero in 2042, but the carbon already in the air won't be done with us for a long time. Today is rough: even though the day is sunny and clear, the winds are strong, and by the early afternoon I feel drained.

At the end of my five-hour shift, I take the maglev back to the city and eat lunch. Most days I have lunch at the Silver City Cafe. The cafe is run by Alicia, who I've been friends with since grade school, and her brother Trey. The food is delicious, and it gives me an excuse to see Alicia. Today she's working at the counter, and she greets me when I come in. I sit down at the counter and order white beans with avocado and nopales. Most of the food for the Silver City Cafe is grown in the large garden out back. The Pacific Northwest didn't used to be hospitable to avocado and nopales, but now it is--a silver lining, I suppose.

"How are you doin', Mel?" asks Alicia as she brings out the food.

I give her a significant look. "I had another dream about Daza."

Alicia widens her eyes. "You need to do something about that," she says. "Seriously, just ask them out already."

"I know, I know," I sigh. "I just can't make myself do it."

Alicia shakes her head. "Okay, you are in a desperate situation. Look, I just made a batch of vanilla cookies. I'm giving you some on the house, and which you are going to give to Daza when you see them. No, I don't want to hear it!" she says over my protests. "You better make this count."

I accept the box of cookies and smile. "Thanks, Alicia. I owe you. Next time there's a femme you like, I'll be your champion wingman." Alicia has never been in a serious relationship, though she's had some flings.

Alicia laughs and waves her hand. "Oh, you know me. No one in this town is good enough."

I laugh too. "Naturally. Well, if you're free, why don't you come over tomorrow night. We'll either celebrate or we'll eat all the cookies together."

"That sounds great. I'll ping you. And I'll bring wine."

"Perfect."

Someone else walks into the cafe, and Alicia goes back to her work. I dig into the white beans and think about how I can make a move on Daza.