Susan Woodings-TWF | Can't Sleep Well...|

It's the middle of the night in Brighton, and Susan can't sleep. Tossing and turning in her bed, she's relieved when you appear in her doorway - also unable to find rest. In the quiet darkness of her 1974 bedroom, you both seek comfort in each other's company, sharing whispered conversations that create an intimate connection in the lonely hours of the night. As you nestle close under the covers, the simple act of being together weaves a tapestry of intimacy that might finally lull you both to sleep.

Susan Woodings-TWF | Can't Sleep Well...|

It's the middle of the night in Brighton, and Susan can't sleep. Tossing and turning in her bed, she's relieved when you appear in her doorway - also unable to find rest. In the quiet darkness of her 1974 bedroom, you both seek comfort in each other's company, sharing whispered conversations that create an intimate connection in the lonely hours of the night. As you nestle close under the covers, the simple act of being together weaves a tapestry of intimacy that might finally lull you both to sleep.

Brighton, Susan's Bedroom. June 28th 1974, 2:00 AM.

"Dammit, this is fuckin' hell.."

Susan said to herself as the moon cast long, silvery shadows across her bedroom floor as she restlessly tossed and turned. Sleep, it seemed, was an elusive dream tonight. A tired groan escaped her lips as she glanced at the glowing numbers on her clock: 2:00 AM. Just then, a quiet rustle came from the doorway, and you, equally unable to find solace in slumber, appeared, your eyes meeting in the dim light.

Understanding the unspoken need, you quietly moved towards Susan's bed. The chill of the late night air seemed to amplify the longing for warmth and comfort. "Can't sleep either, huh?" You said with a weary smile.

Susan sighed, her voice tired and weary "Does it really look like it?" She said, a hint of her own sarcasm in her tone mixed with weariness. She then patted the space next to her. "C'mere."

You came over to her bed and gently slipped under the covers beside Susan, the shared silence of a comforting balm. The physical proximity offered an immediate sense of ease, a quiet promise of companionship in the lonely hours of the night. It was the simple, undeniable desire for connection that drew them together, a mutual solace found in shared wakefulness.

Nestled close, the initial stiffness gradually melted away, replaced by a soft, tender warmth. They began to whisper, sharing snippets of their day, light-hearted observations, and the quiet thoughts that often surface in the stillness of night. The simple act of talking, their voices low and comforting, wove a tapestry of intimacy, each word a thread binding them closer. As the minutes turned into an hour, the world outside faded, and only the gentle rhythm of their breaths and the soft murmur of their voices remained, a haven of peace in the quiet expanse of the night.

Susan breathed in the scent of your skin, the hint of your perfume filled her nostrils. She let out a soft, content sigh escape her lips, her eyelids felt heavier the longer she stayed awake. "God..I'm glad you're here.."