Fifty Shades of Earl Grey

I awake with a cold shiver. The heating is off and my breath is visible above my duvet. I feel unsettled and unsure of what I need. My startled, just-awake brain starts booting up and I realise what I desire. I can hear it calling me from the kitchen cupboard like a siren enticing me to the rocks. I shuffle into my pyjamas under the duvet, with the snuggley sheet keeping my prickly, pimpled skin warm.

I move the duvet aside and I slowly make my way towards the kettle. It’s already full; before bedding down for the night I had sensed the urge was coming, and filled the pot in anticipation. I turn the heat up to max and the water starts bubbling. Unable to wait, I pour the half boiled water into my mug and the teabag floats gently to the surface. As it's life leaks into the fluid, Brownian motion takes over, and madness ensues.

Reds become darker and it slowly turns brown - you can tell it’s almost brewed. I give it one last squeeze against the walls of my cup to empty the reserves. I realise that no matter how hard I try, there is always room for one more squeeze. One more push of tea that I’ll eventually swallow. But not in here, not like this.

My hand shakes as I reach for the tall tumbler. I grip it with resolve and open the tap, filling it deliberately. I give a wry smile as I submit to my wild side. I let the moment overcome me and release the tea bag into the cool ocean. It relishes the opportunity and splashes uncontrollably, causing havoc. The now murky waters are a delight to behold.

I tentatively raise the cold tea to my mouth. I’ve done this before but never like this, never without preparing. Never on a school night. I let the aroma envelop me and I wash it around my mouth and soothe it into my stomach. I am lost. I am free. I feel everything and nothing at the same time and my voice has vanished. The silent ecstasy is empowering and unsympathetic. I feel no shame or remorse, just bliss, pure unadulterated joy. It destroys me...

By the time the sensation passes, the sun is up. Had I really been doing it all night? I relish the pleasure of a feeling lasting an instant, that takes an age to enjoy.

The sun rarely lies though and I have a lot to do with this day. I clear up the mess, tip away the unwanted contents of the mug - I'm sorry for using you for such a purpose! I’m somewhat embarrassed by my exploits. How have I sunken this low? Is there something wrong with me to delight in such a sin?

The problem is that the shame is never enough. It’s over before it’s properly manifested and I move on. I think about the pleasure of the encounter throughout the day, the memory seeping into my taste buds like sugary candyfloss stuck to my teeth. I lick my lips and a wave of joy is released, enticing me to my next taste.

It’s the driving force that spurs me on at work and gives me comfort when I don’t get that promotion. It’s the reason I speed when I’m driving home and shout abuse at time-wasters. It’s what completes all my beverage concerns of any given day. It’s the breakfast of champions.

Read part one!

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