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A collaboration over too much coffee.
coffee and pen

08 November, 2006

Dark Places

(Originally posted here.)

We met at one of those dark places. The silence between us had stretched. She was inhaling the new liquid. I was on the one with three letters. Twice our lips touched across the divide. A bridge of tongues. A stream of saliva. The mixture of lips.

“Do you believe in coincidence?”

“Do you believe in chance?”

The music swirled and swooned. Through our levitating bodies. Our fingers touched forbidden places. A moist sensation. A fluid emotion. Sudden laughter behind our eyes. Tears carved new pathways on her cheeks. I leaned forward and licked them off.

“How weird is that?”

“Yes, a midget and a transvestite having sex on the dance floor.”

“I saw you yesterday, in my last dream before I woke up.”

People swayed around us, drunk on this and that. There was something in the air. A flash? A streak? A swoosh? I inhaled her smell. Pheromones called out in a primitive language. Glasses tinkled beside us. Multi-colored liquids sloshed in perfectly shaped receptacles.

“I see you in my eyes.”

“Perhaps we should dance in our minds?”

The light faded. Conversation muted suddenly like a TV heard across a hotel wall. Where were we? Did you recognize us? Inside all was bright and innocent light. Outside was a kaleidoscope of sensation.

“I want to kiss your eyelids.”

“Yes, I loved her once upon a time. Now, whenever I see her, I feel sad.”

“Do you think the world cares for what happens here?”

“I wonder what she is doing right now. Is she in love again? I cannot see.”

Hands brushed aside. Clothes slowly sliding. I touched the birth mark next to her belly button. My finger slipped into her belly button.

“Umm…that reminds me of something. A photograph he took while I was sleeping naked. The birth mark was in focus.”

Elasticity of the heart. Words floated in and out. Sounds crashed together like two people having a simultaneous orgasm. I found my tongue in her mouth. We separated. She leaned over and touched my lips, tracing their outlines with the tip of her ring finger. It was as if she was applying something invisible. She shivered as that delicate touch whispered something to her.

“Where are you? Do you feel the same way?”

The night tasted like the colored liquid in my glass. Strange. This was so different. Places I had been to. Flashes of light. Nostalgia was a red pill.

“Hey, do you know your name means nothing?”

I swallowed a million letters that could have been words. Time felt like an old friend. Although all my old friends were too busy racing against time to become rich. I nodded and sucked on her middle finger. Strawberry and passion fruit. She had blue fingernails. A ring had left its mark.

“What happened to your moustache?”

“She made me shave it off. It hurt her whenever we kissed. Sensitive skin.”

A slow descent. Movements picking up momentum. The pendant between her breasts sparkled like her lips. We moved. Tomorrow was far far away. Hands linked. We walked. An empty room on the horizon. I waved across the road.

“Do you see him all dressed up? I could kick his balls without feeling guilty.”

“I could set her clothes on fire. There is a red bra. One green colored stole. One skirt made of cotton. A seductive backless gown in pitch black.”

The ride was amazing. An exhilaration of speed. The neon lights sang to the shadows. The shadows danced on her eyebrows. I smiled. It was a night worth remembering.

The worst part of the world was sleeping. We were the only good ones awake. I sucked her ear lobes. Soft like a baby’s stomach. She sighed. The room opened itself. The round bed was available. It was white. Like the skin on her shoulders. We nuzzled. My fingers played the different keys on her spine. She immersed me in her hair. Lilies in a meadow. Our tongues shot out and reached out across the little space to talk. We listened. It was magic of a different kind. The night was just beginning to shake sleep from her eyes.

Satin skin. A wine glass on the sideboard. White wine in her mouth. A gentle Riesling with quirky undertones. The blanket covered us like a warm thought.

“Tell, tell me, and do not murder the thought.”

“I want to sleep with you.”

We sunk into each other. The darkness rushed between us driven by the memory of dawn. We rose. We fell. Into each other’s arms. Our skins erupted, miniature geysers gushing with total abandon. The light burst in our pupils. We cried as the music crashed inside us. Semi colons and full stops. A full embrace. Naked skin against skin. Wet and smooth. The night was finally over. We snuggled and closed our eyes. The fan hummed pleasantly. In the distance the road whispered from time to time. All was well. All was peace.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

to start off with, i found ur writing gripping. i really relished the evocative language that u hv used in the form of crisp sentences...very powerful indeed. they have enabled in creating numerous sensations.
the one problem i had with ur writing was the fourth sentence of the first para. it is totally unnecessary.
the use of the first person is quite tactful, a 'he' might have lessend the effect.however, a nil, right?

30 November, 2006 23:43  

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