I never dealt well with her longings.
In the evenings, on the stoop of her building, when we sat smoking cigarettes and drinking red wine from plastic cups, she often grew quiet and thoughtful in a disturbing way. I could see the lines in her face change, and her whole body shifted into someone I didn’t understand.
“I don’t want to live a normal life,” she said.
“Who does?” I responded, as if that was enough.
“I mean I don’t want to live life normally. It’s not the same thing. I don’t mind going to work and getting up early on weekdays. I don’t care about the laundry or the bills. That’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean then?” I asked, picturing the life of an artist, sleeping ‘till three with an obsessive lack of caring about the details.
“You should know,” she whispered, lighting another cigarette. “I mean, you do know, you just want to forget.”
“I remember everything.”
“Do you remember when we had sex last week in the morning? I started to cry, and you stopped and kissed my eyes and told me everything was alright?”
I nodded, because it was the only thing to do. She often cried during sex, and I moved instantly from thrusting to holding her tight. Life was fragile for us both, and tears required comfort more than lust.
“Should I have kept going?” I finally asked, hoping to break the silence that had gone on too long.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, stealing the last of my wine. “What you did or didn’t do doesn’t matter. That moment? Those minutes of tears, sex, love, and confusion? That’s what I want. I don’t want a normal life.”
“I swear I’ll never understand you,” I said, leaning back and looking up at the darkening sky. The buildings across the street were silhouetted by the sun, and the streets were full of people longing for anything that didn’t involve tears.
“That’s okay too,” she whispered, leaning her head against my shoulder. “I don’t need your understanding.”
All I could do was kiss her hair, wondering if she would leave or stay. Wondering if it was true.
Wondering if any of it was enough.
The music is too loud
and the patrons are unstable
they wobble, of course
but their eyes also
shift about the bar
and I wonder that
violence rarely breaks out
the beer is nearly warm and the
tables lean back and forth with the
hipsters shooting pool
on the ceiling I can still
see the stains
of yellow smoke
from years ago when
ashtrays were furniture
the smell is worse in the summer
and the air conditioner chokes
as it struggles to fill the room
but after twenty years
I have too many memories
to let go
when I look up
to the wobbly men
their shifty eyes no longer
I see them smile
I hear them laugh
there are many names
we call home
She didn’t want to know his name.
It was important that I did, but anything more than that would move it from one thing to another. It was a ledge she wanted to sit on, and if there were too many things to hold onto, the excitement would vanish with the fear.
He was waiting in the room when she entered, and I could feel her heart beating through my grip on her arm. Her eyes settled on him in an instant, and for a brief moment I wondered if she might change her mind. By the time she stood in front of him, we could both hear her breath, and when I reached the zipper on the back of her dress a sigh escaped her lips.
“Would you like to see her naked?” I asked, stepping up beside him where he sat. We eyed her up and down, her lip trembling in worried anticipation. His nod was enough, and I marvelled at his composure.
Her dress fell to the floor in silence. She stepped forward, closer to him since there was no where else to go, and his hands moved instantly to her hips. When I unclasped her bra and removed it she trembled, and when I finally slid the lace off her thighs, she sighed once more. I pulled her hands behind her back an instant later, and she stood in front of him, bare to his wandering eyes and hands.
“I thought you’d like her,” I said, watching him take her in, even as I kissed her neck, my grip never loosening. “But tell me. Do you want to fuck her? If not, I’ll simply take her away.”
Without a word he pulled her onto his lap, her thighs parting as she straddled him. She leaned back and groaned, feeling him hard between her legs, and when my fingers gripped her hair she was nearly coming.
“Yes,” he whispered, his hands on her breasts, twisting and teasing her body in an instant. “I do want to fuck her. Now, in fact.”
She struggled to move, her arms still held firmly in my grasp as he undid his belt. She struggled not to beg as he pulled his hard cock from his pants, her cunt opening around him as her hips moved involuntarily, trying to take him inside her. I kissed her mouth as she groaned, and I reached between their bodies, opening her lips and pushing two fingers inside her. She was soaking wet, her want as urgent as his.
“Are you ready?” I asked her, holding him against her. “Are you ready to get fucked?”
“Please,” was all she could say, mumbling the word over and over again as she struggled against us both.
A second later and it was done. He lifted her up, wrapped his hand firmly around his cock, and then lowered her back down, thrusting inside her in one motion. Her head rolled back, her eyes opened wide, and the scream that left her mouth was animal and uncontrolled. I pushed her down hard as he pulled her to him, thrusting his cock inside her, as she grew louder and louder with each passing second.
“I want to come,” she moaned. “And I want him to come. Oh god, I want both of you to come. I want everything.”
She bit her lip as I stepped in front of her, my own cock in my hand as I watched them fuck. I leaned forward, pulling a nipple between two fingers, pinching her harder and longer than I ever had before as she called out my name over and over again. He didn’t once slow down, and it only took minutes before she began to clench around him, her whole body starting to let go.
When she came, she shook the room. When she came time stopped, the earth shifted on its axis, and the heavens shuddered in envy. When she came she drenched his body, her cunt letting go of everything, spilling her release across his skin.
When she came we both followed instantly, him deep inside her, and me covering her breasts and neck as I pulled her to me with one hand wrapped in her hair. He kissed her mouth and then I did, all of us shaking and moaning without any words at all, our bodies flooding each other in wave after wave of pleasure.
She didn’t stop, even after we did, her thighs clenching tightly as she lifted herself up and down, his cock still mostly hard inside her. She leaned in, his teeth now finding her skin as she came once more, this time lifting off of him, exploding everywhere as the shudders took her from head to toe. Her arms around his neck, and his face between her breasts, she held him there struggling to say a word.
When she looked up at me there was adoration in her eyes mixed in with relief and the desire for more. She grinned and she shook when I kissed her. She closed her eyes as he pulled her close, and he held her tightly as she gently rocked above him, their bodies soaked with release.
It was a long time before anyone said a thing, and then it was just one word. She kissed him slowly and firmly before looking up and pulling me close.
“Again,” she said, her eyes closing as her hips began to move once more.
in the morning she lies between us
her lips parted and her body still bruised
the room smells of honeysuckle
and sex with a hint of coffee
just beginning to brew
he opens his eyes and smiles at me
our minds drifting back
to just hours before
as she writhed between us
needing us to
fuck her harder with each
I can see the mark he left on a shoulder
and her skin
is red from my come
when she rolls to her back
our eyes open wider
and we lose all restraint
our hands begin to move
and her thighs part
shredding our memory
and replacing it instantly
when she stretches her limbs
her body waking from a dream
it’s with a whisper on her battered lips
more she says softly
I want more
When I think about the night we spent together it all piles up in my head, and it’s nearly impossible for me to pull any single detail from the whole. If I could write about sex with her it would be one word, the letters of a thousand others bunched up on top, sitting in one place, ready to explode. If I could write about her, it would be a thousand voices all speaking at once.
I know that I asked her for a kiss, and I know that from that moment on all of our words were whispered in ears as we lost clothes, tugged and scratched skin, and discovered things about each other we didn’t know. I didn’t know how hard she liked to be pushed until she whispered it in my ear. I didn’t know she wanted me to fight back until I pinned her arms above her head and listened to her breath. I didn’t know she wanted me inside her until she opened her legs and closed her eyes.
There were times when I wanted to slow down until the sensation of our bodies was the only thing in the world. There were times when I wanted to stop and stare into her eyes without moving a muscle. But quiet wasn’t what she needed, and it wasn’t what my body wanted. It was my brain telling me to slow down. It was my thinking mind so used to worry and fear that it nearly shut me off without noticing.
But somehow I managed to avoid it, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t her lips. Or if I said it wasn’t her words. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t her skin and her mouth urging me to forget everything. And somehow I did. Somehow I forget to struggle and I forgot to be afraid.
Somehow I forgot to think at all.