Freckles Thief

or Synonyms1


I kissed her fingertips. Then started counting.2

"What are you doing?" she laughed loudly.3

"Counting your freckles," I answered with half of my mind, the other half counting on and the third half loving her.4

"Three halves?" she laughed again, "That does not make sense..."5

"Hey, you're not supposed to read my thoughts. Three halves of mind is what I need to love you. And besides, you are supposed to ask me about the senselessness of counting your freckles not some irrelevant mathematical queries." I reached seven hundred eighty nine and was hardly beyond her left wrist's line. It took me half an hour, having lost count twice and having had to restart as many times. "And if you keep interrupting me I will never finish." I eyed her obliquely with the non counting half of my mind. "Do you really read my mind?" I thought thirty eight and waited.6

"Silly man, of course I don't read your mind. Otherwise why would I ask so many questions?" Then she added "What is thirty eight?"7

Having thus received confirmation to what I knew already, I did not bother to answer. I marked carefully the spot I reached, then rushed to a local flowers shop and bought her a huge bouquet of red roses mixed with yellow daisies, laid it in her lap after kissing her upper lip, then kissed her lower lip after laying it in her lap, then continued counting.8

"You are nuts," she giggled. Then buried her head in the flowers, her shoulders shaking convulsively.9

"Why are you crying?" I asked.10

"I am laughing, silly..."11

Well, that at least made some sense. Took me some time to reach her elbow, pushed the shirt's sleeve up and continued. She started whistling. Then she started singing. Then she took the daisies and started pulling the petals and dropping them on her freckles. Too late, the count was solidly on and there was no way for me to miss it again. No celestial power will prevent me from finishing my mission. I was not surprised anymore when she said...12

"Do you really think that any celestial power cares about how many freckles I have and how many daisy petals there are in this bouquet? Eight hundred twelve of them." Having had the petals counted myself, I knew she was wrong. There were only eight hundred eleven, the one missing petal stored underneath my skin inside a cut against my second rib bottom left of my chest. I allowed myself a smirk of superiority.13

"I love you," I said. I counted her upper arm, then her shoulder, moving on to the right shoulder while she was sleeping and finishing with the right hand's fingers just as she was waking up stretching lazily. I was grateful for her nap, otherwise I may have had to start again. "I love you," I repeated only to ensure she remembers the statement, made love to her before she brushed her teeth, and followed her in the shower counting now the freckles on her chest and breasts. 14

"They will have to redefine loony for you," I heard her gurgling voice braving the cascading hot water, as I examined minutiously every other piece of skin, inclusive the soles of her feet, making sure I did not miss any spot. Then I smacked her bottom hard and left her in the care of the shower gods, hoping they are all of female gender, changed my soaked garments and stretched myself on the bed. I took a writing pad and started writing. "What are you writing there?" she asked five minutes later as her body's dripping flesh appeared in the bathroom's door rubbing itself vigorously with a huge towel.15

I looked up from the half filled page.16

"Other synonyms. You used already silly, nuts, loony... I am ensuring you have another supply for later usage."17

She hit me over the head with a wet bar of soap, kissed me deeply, then moaned happily as I started rubbing dryness into her. I sheathed her into a pair of short soft cotton pajama pants, and then a mismatching pajama shirt feeling like the kingpin of pajama fashion and design. I dropped design from my mind - after all I was using ready made materials. Then heard her moaning protest and added design back to my mind, happily yapping at the sharp pinch of appreciation her fingers left on my butt.18

"Silly butt..." ...so dull and uninnovative, but what could you expect from a woman in love?... I dared these blasphemous thoughts while keeping a safe distance between the softest part of my lower anatomy and the probing twangs.19

"Witch..." I retorted with a vengeance, and as the groping finger tips seemed to have tired from looking for me I crawled back onto the bed, opened the top of her pajama shirt I so carefully buttoned earlier on, touched with my left index finger the flesh just below the right shoulder, then buttoned it back and covered her with a blanket up to her chin. She sneaked a hand out, picked up my list and read it intently.20

"Balmy..." she looked up at me for approval of choice, and as I radiated with puppy glee she continued sleepily... "...lover, what in hell are you doing?"21

I looked at her pensively, caressing her left eyebrow and paying full attention to do it with my right index finger. Then lifted my shirt and placed the left index on the skin underneath my left nipple, after which I let the shirt fall down in place.22

"I don't know what plans they have for me there..." and as she lifted her eyebrows I added hastily to prevent misinterpretation..."...in hell, I mean. After all they have an endless supply of lovers." And as the corners of her mouth started lifting towards her lifted eyebrows, I continued. "On the other hand - here, what I did was steal one of your freckles."23

She let the bells ring loudly, and after a few repeated convulsions was able to speak again. I could hardly understand her words as she kept her lips crushed into mine and tried talking at the same time. Now who is the silly here?... was the thought pulling my ear as I felt myself glowing warmly inside.24

"And how and why and what for on earth..." I heard the emphasis on earth "...would you steal one of my freckles?" Her lips did not release mine, neither were mine eager in any way to regain their freedom. So I had to talk straight into her mouth hoping her ears will pick up my mumble through her skull bone's reflections.25

"I simply picked up one with my finger tip and transfered it to my skin. You saw me doing it."26

"Are you sure you succeeded to take it?..." I think she was trying to laugh, or maybe she was trying no to laugh. I any case it was something to do with laughter.27

"Yes, I am. Tell me a number, how many freckles do you have on your skin?"28

She quoted a number, then reluctantly let go of my mouth as I stretched over to the night table and picked up a sheet of paper I used earlier on, showing it to her. It had on it the number she quoted, minus one. She frowned slightly, still smiling big.29

"Cheap trick..."30

"And how many freckles do I have?" I continued my third degree interrogation, as she leaned on the wall behind the bed and took my head in her lap stroking my forehead.31

"I don't know... whatever it was plus one?"32

I turned over the sheet of paper and showed her what was written there, which was simply plus one.33

"I don't know either, but now I have whatever there was plus one."34

I saw her lower lip pouting slightly, her brains trying to gather some more information before any additional statement was made. I showed her the list of synonyms again, waiting for her to make a choice.35

"Tell me my sweet... ahmm..." she scanned the list... "...screwball. I was ready to give you my heart, I was ready to give you my life. Why would you commit such a preposterous ignoble unruly act as stealing one of my freckles and assuming its identity on your own body?" There was no mirth, no mockery, no trace of irony in the question as those bottomless pits of emotion bored deeply into my cringing soul awaiting the only answer that would make sense. An answer that only a silly, nuts, loony, balmy, screwball, and so on lover would possess and be able to deliver. And I better do my delivery good. And win life or lose all I have. 36

She waited. I shivered, averting my eyes. I answered.37

"I don't know," I said, though she may have known the answer by now, as she seemed to have been reading every letter written on my mind till this moment. It was easier for her, she knew while I had to make choices. And I had to make the right choice or forever lose her trust. "Probably because I wanted to have something that no one else had before me. Probably because if I took your heart you may have died. Probably to see if you trust my word. Probably because I am..." it was my turn to look at the list and scan the well defined synonyms..."...so friggin' in love with you."38

She snatched the list from my hand and I saw her eyes reading it carefully three times, trying to make up her mind if I was cheating or simply creative. Then she lifted my shirt and looked underneath my left nipple, touching the skin lightly with her left index. She caught the list between her teeth and pulled at it with her right hand tearing it into two asymmetrical pieces. The torn pieces floated to the floor, her left index never for a second leaving contact with my skin. This time I did not avert my eyes. She knew, even if I did not know, she knew it so clearly that she could not postpone the moment of decision anymore. She simply had to decide. She decided. She lifted her fingertip from my skin and showed it to me. Blank. I smiled. Her smile roared making mine hide in embarrassed insignificance. 39

"Yes, definitely a man in love." And she kissed me.40

I kept my eyes closed, knowing I won. She was starting her own synonyms list, adding forgotten words, discarding part of the old definitions, creating new ones. I knew it was going to become a long list. After all, now we had a lifetime to create them.