Thursday, December 10, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
A wasp flies into view and perches itself on the white cupboard above the sink. She rises and moves toward the little beast, pausing to pick up an abandoned magazine. After folding it into a cylindrical weapon she swats the bug, down it goes. It lands on the countertop with a crispy –tink!-. She brushes it into the waste basket and walks back to her seat. And as she sits, she laughs at something. I laugh with her, but not where she can hear. Somebody claps briefly and she flashes them a nod and a grin. Then off she goes, back into her thoughts. What are they about, I wonder. What are they about?
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Vegas, he said.
Vegas. I smiled.
Painted teenagers dancing. Painted eyes, painted lips, painted cheeks. Tiny, taut muscles, squeezed into blue costumes. Am I the ogre? I wanted to believe I wasn’t so I stayed hidden in the shadow. Tiny bodies with wicked curves here and there. The music swam through air. I looked away.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
He was sporting a mustache. As a joke I guess. But something about it was wickedly hot. I stared at him and then she laughed. Her giggle caught my attention. And then she kissed my cheek, giggling in my ear. You smell so good, she told me. I grinned.
Monday, August 17, 2009
I stared at him the entire time I waited for my ridiculous order. I could smell chocolate so I imagined him eating chocolate. I imagined him naked. And my scarf started to soak up the sweat around my neck.
He looked up at me. I smiled. He smiled and tilted his head in that, I-know-you kind of way. Hi, he said.
Friday, August 14, 2009
I noticed her laughter was brighter, her voice melodic, her smile more genuine, as long as her hands were touching me. I purposely let the current wash through me into her fingers. She is enjoying this. And strangely enough, so am I.
Somehow I arrived on time and found my seat in the crowd. Ridiculously enough the wedding was outside and the seats were wet, as were the trees, the ground, the air itself. I mindlessly flirted with the guy seated in front of me. And afterward he kept turning around to continue but I always looked the other way.
At some point she appeared. A tiny perfect doll in a white dress. I felt nothing. She was were she wanted to be, apparently, and I just watched. Maybe I had a quick flashback of the two of us, alone, laughing, but it faded. The idiot was crying as he said his vows but she was solid, as women always are, her smoky little voice a soft caress in the humid air. I hadn’t heard that voice in over a year. And to hear it now, saying those words…
Later on she would talk to me, midst dozens of friends and relatives, hungry for her attention. And she would smile and laugh and hug me. Her face was still the same beautiful portrait it had always been. Yet the dress seemed out of place. But only to me.
Soon after, I left the party. The night was wet and full of music. And I walked, by lamp-lit pathway, to my car. I smelled the magnolias along the way. Maybe I would see her again, accidentally run into her some day, somewhere. She’ll be smiling as always and so will I. We’ll chat and then say goodbye. And her face, it will still be the same beautiful portrait it’s always been.
Friday, July 17, 2009
I was already there when he walked in. I’d never seen a room like this. I’d never before seen columns, phallicly lovely and huge, tower into a ceiling, wherever it ended, too far up to see, up into the darkness. And as he turned his back to me he took off his robe. I caught only the barest bit of lower back as he slid from it. Into the water he went as I watched every moment. I was merely a ghost, a vapor. I could stare blatantly and he’d never notice. My mouth got hot and my neck was sweating a ring of fire around me. He was beautifully oblivious of my presence and as he sat there, staring into nothing I touched my face. I imagined it was his wet warm hand.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Three weeks ago today. Three weeks ago she saturated it with her body. Her smell, her charm, her laughter. It’s ridiculous but I can feel her hot skin and hear her smoky floral voice the moment I pull it from my closet.
My suit jacket. She wore my suit jacket for ten minutes or so. It was cold and the night air bit through my face and my ears. But I was impervious to natural unpleasantries that night. Only the caramel color of her thighs, mostly hidden by the red satin of her dress could really punch me in the stomach.
I sat there in the fog and watched the dizzy colors of people and things move past me. I concentrated on nothing and let only the euphoria of my stupor embrace me. And then her face, her arm extended out to me, my jacket in her hand. I kissed her fingers. She kissed mine. I kissed her lips. She kissed mine. I stared at her, for one long moment. She kept my gaze, boldly, and then turned to go.
I sit here now, three weeks later. The jacket is hanging. I am looking at a picture of her. I plan on wearing the jacket while masturbating to her scent and her photograph. Her black hair won’t be in my face while I *u** myself and her tiny body won’t be impaling itself on my *ock but I’ll imagine it. My dirty thoughts will do her justice. The jacket. It will bring her back to me.
He came over every day. I set the lights, I laid the fabrics and the furs. I even brought a giant yellow snake once. He was my muse and my object and every afternoon he belonged to me inside a tiny studio. He was blue jeans and gray t-shirts, stubble and boyish smiles. Blue eyes tinted with black magic. And every day began the same. He would listen to my instruction, nod his head in accordance, grin at me and then undress. At first he used the changing room to disrobe before stepping into the lights, wrapped in a towel. But after his trust in me became absolute he undressed right in front of me, under the lights, under heaven. His body was a mind****. It made me hurt, it made me sick. It was angels and devils, purity and sin. Adonis’s cum and Aphrodite’s cream. No words could explain it though I tried. I tried, for my own amusement. I tried to see, I tried to breath but the sound of his belt whipping through the loops of his jeans knocked me unconscious each and every time. And in that millisecond of lusty darkness my body was an infant, tiny and naked, soaked in a sweat of lava and napalm. The air surrounding my face was burnt to a crisp and I could almost see the black crust of the charred atmosphere. Surely I would die here, my camera cracking itself in two as it hit the floor, with me to follow, knees first. This monster, how could he have done this? He was only a man after all. And so I snapped. The lens could endure what my eyes could barely withstand. The perfect white skin tautly pulled over muscle and bone. The slightest of dark hair trickling down from his navel to holy land. I smiled to myself and clicked like mad. His grin was shy but his eyes were madly bold. I wanted to **** him. It seemed so obvious to me. Surely he could feel my desire from where he stood and it surprised me the sheer force of it didn’t knock him over. You’re a ****ing animal, I told him one day, trying to elicit some response, a laugh or a smirk. Some cute expression on that wicked gorgeous face. Then he flashed perfect white teeth, too sharp canines. A vein pulsed in his temple. Oh God. He was naked, he was letting me take his picture and he was smiling.