Untitled Fragment

This piece was submitted anonymously, but unfortunately again came without a title (I think that’s a problem with our form which I am going to correct – JB)

There was a moment of almost-silence; all that could be heard was the soft panting, and the sound of elevated heart rates; both of which subsided. Richard opened the bedside draw and pulled out a packet of Benson & Hedges and a lighter. After offering her a cigarette (she accepted), he screwed one into his mouth, lit it and passed the lighter to Sophie. Richard felt somewhat liberated; in the post-orgasmic buzz, he looked upon his current situation: he was married, in a house, not currently working (he prefers the idea of Jane having to pay the mortgage), eating well, being somewhat fashionable at the age of 33, and being in bed, smoking a post-coital cigarette next to a very attractive lady who wasn’t his wife.

He stared at the ceiling, still buzzing from his activities. He’d always hated the ceiling in the bedroom; it was one of those really dated ceilings that every homeowner vows to change when they move into their property, but never manage to. It was painted glossy white, and was textured to look like the surface of an undercooked baked alaska, swirling in strange, unnatural circles and threatening to drip down onto the bed and ruin the sheets with ghastly white stains. Richard began to wonder what it would be like if his entire ceiling were an upside-down baked alaska, waiting to be snacked upon, and how long it would take to eat it. His sweet, eggy reverie was interrupted by Sophie snuggling against him. He didn’t move; he did not like being interrupted.
“When does she get back from work?” she asked, drowsily.
“I’m not sure, but I think it’s about time you left.” Richard replied sternly.