Hey there. It’s me, you know, from yesterday.
“The only thing I’m worrying about is you worrying about me.”
That’s what you said, and it was so profound, when you turned around and went back to your routine... Every time you walk away from someone, there will be someone reaching after you, longing, but they won’t say anything; only because you have taken their voice with you, there’s simply just not enough of them left to push them to follow you.
We weren’t at that bookstore to find something in common, but I’m glad we did.
I thought you should know I really do want to see you again. It’s just, for those couple of hours we had, I think you worried that all I saw was all there is to see.
I’m sure it’s not, and if it’s not, I’ll take you out one more time, and we’ll see how it goes.
I was scouring the earth once, you know, for that special someone; only to find out she was here by the water watching the ripples all along.
”I thought this was a one night kind of thing?” she didn’t turn to him as he approached her, she didn’t think it was necessary when the thing that had formed between them alerted her to his electricity; the presence he created with silence alone.
She placed aside “Brown Sugar” carefully as if it were the most precious thing in the world covering her bruised cheek with a lock of hair, wondering why she bothered when you both knew it was a useless effort.
He watched her pick dandelions making a crown out of them, a crown for fools chasing things that aren’t theirs to have; a dangerous notion that should have sent him running the other way yet drew him closer to her, “I thought your husband wouldn’t let you out again.”
She looks away from him picking absently at the flower crown she had made placing it on her head with a little ghost of an ironic smile, “after a good beating I usually just leave while he sleeps off his alcohol, gives me more time to marvel at your mystery.”
He watches her sitting beside her brushing back the hair she is using as a shield to hide her shiner, she says nothing merely watches him watching her daring him to give her sympathy.
He knows better and pushes her back against the grass knocking the crown of pure innocence off her head with a puff of seeds sent on the breeze of the wind to continue the legacy of dandelions and hopeful wishes.
“Why don’t you leave him then?” his hands callous and rough are tender against her skin undressing her as if he is unable to help himself having no control of his own body; there is a laziness to his movements that makes her eyes close feeling the nuzzle of his lips against her neck.
He acts like he doesn’t care one way or another what happens so long as he feels her, tastes the answer to his question on her heart-shaped lips feeling the shudder of her submission to reality in the wrap of her arms around him and the arch of her breasts gasping for contact against his hard-pressed muscles.
They sink into each other and forget the rest of the world uncaring if it was burning around them, intent on destroying everything else but the bubble they have made for themselves; their little corner of a damned world.
He studies her in ways that were limited to him during that first night together in the dim glow of a hotel room lamp, the flickering shadows of her breasts revealed to him in the daylight of the forest.
Funny to think there was a little corner of nature in the big concrete jungle waiting for them, marked by the sounds of their passion not giving a damn for the cops that might come at the complaint of a disturbance.
He is drawn to her skin, his hands worship every inch of her quivering flesh, he is addicted to the sounds she makes depending where he touches like a man addicted to the sample of different substances both illegal or not.
He is addicted to her eyes, the darkening pools of her lust that drowns anyone foolish enough to fall for her average unsuspecting charm.
She has filled out beautifully the past couple of days being with him, her pudge transferring to the fullness of her ass, the tight muscles that clench him when he sinks into her bottomless depths and convulses in the throes of her jump off the edge of the earth into insanity.
Later he will twist and turn each way possible in the mirror to see the red scars she leaves on his back when she comes to him screaming her release in his ear spurring him on, he grunts and buries himself into her sinking teeth into her shoulder feeling her joy in her throat; the pulse thundering as he releases her from who she pretends to be. A mortal woman among other mortals.
She transforms into a fiery goddess in his arms with eyes filled with stormy passion and possessive inclinations, she rolls him over and takes him with dark promises and renewed energy.
She is a cosmos unraveling above him bursting into a thousand galaxies as he grips her tight and follows her into the unknown, exploring each other in ways that should be reserved for well-seasoned lovers; he watches her combust with something that looks a lot like pride but is mostly protected by a curtain of his lust; the quilted desire in her eyes clouds with satiation as he draws her close and blankets her with his arms.
She studies him in the afterglow, the carefully hidden emotion behind a blank expression staring up toward the clouds, unaffected by the brush of fingertips between the hairs of his chest with her gaze centered on his face seeking for something behind the mask he portrays.
She thinks to herself, “How many times have you been here, speaking to someone who has lost hope, and not seen the hopelessness in your eyes, seen the shadow of it behind your burning emeralds? Have you ever loved before, is that why you’re so complex and beautiful?”
Her hands find his face as the press of her body captures his attention, the warmth of release seeping between her enclosed thighs squeezing him home once more; his impassive gaze finds the light of her own while she stares into him with his burrowed certainty and an understanding that partly belongs to her and is partly his also.
Her eyes are tender taking him in with some form of comprehension beginning to understand what he is as a person, what he might have gone through in the time he has been alive, why he stays so distant from commitment yet seeks her out as if something has shifted in his being, in his need to be independent...maybe it has.
“I wasn’t just at that bookstore for a book, like you weren’t there looking for a one night stand. We were both seeking for something different, something that has never been done before. Maybe we both got tired of living life alone and want to experience the other side, whatever this thing is that we have going on between us right now; it’s not a bad thing that I met you.”
As she leans in to kiss him she barely feels the brush of his words against her lips before she is consumed by the insatiable taste of him, “not yet, anyway.”