It all started with a woman (Doesn’t every great story?) I blame her. She’s the reason for the re-invention, the changeling before the unveiling of what’s next. It’s happening. Who I’m becoming remains unknown. I’m growing into that woman.
I sat next to her—a different her (because it’s always about a woman) at a bar. “Did you think I’d actually show up?” I asked her. Wow, those eyes, they almost glowed; and the skin, don’t even get me started. Jesus, I was mesmerized. Who was she? She wouldn’t give me a clue–she made me crazy. I am crazy. The voice didn’t match. She spoke of a sardonic tone, a cynical outlook, an outgrowth of statistics and an over analytical mind. “You’re intense.” She said. She met me at my intellectual level, and took me beyond. She pushed my thinking and scared me in the best possible ways.
I couldn’t help myself, my hand saw something it wanted to touch. I ran the soft edge of my middle finger along the natural line of her well-tattooed, inner arm. My eyes grabbed and wouldn’t allow her to look away. She held her breath, I narrated while feeling her, “I’m touching the inside of your arm, and you’re holding your breath. Why aren’t you breathing?” She let out an audible–sexy as fuck–sigh.
I’m in trouble. Where is the air, what’s happening?
The message came through. I was picking up what she was putting down. Her subtle clues were textured with sex. “So Lonely” by The Police, was playing in the background. It reminded me of my best friend’s wife, a hot brunette whom I often talked to about the nuances of dating. I will never hear that song the same way again without thinking of her. The image–crossed-legs moving up and down to the beat–resides in a place I won’t mention. But in my forefront I was distracted and turned on by the kill at hand.
She arrived before I did. I didn’t see her standing there when I pulled up but as I approached I saw her waiting for me. She looked nervous, shoving her phone back in her pocket when she saw me approaching. The first thing I noticed about her was the curve of her shoulders, the dip of her cleavage. The outline of her hair was delicate, and precise. I followed the path down and past thin straps. She said, “You look pleased with yourself,” like she knew I had been thinking about her. My eyes sparkled. I was in my element, a person to toy with who couldn’t be played.
My hand moved down her arm and to the various images, I stayed there enjoying myself. She grew impatient, or hot, (one) and took my hand and placed it back in my lap, I was bothered to say the least.
The bartender overheard me say to her, “Every question I ask you only leads to another.” The full-figured girl said, “Yeah, that’s because you guys have chemistry, I feel it from over here.” We both laughed. I moved around in my chair. The fleshly under belly of my thighs started sweating.
She was completely unknowable, a master at my own game. She had me cornered and I hated it, she was putty and I was pudding. Throw up a wall and I will try my damnedest to climb it, let me in and I lose interest. The mind of madness meets the heart of fear.
All my standards were both failing and working in the same hand. How is this even possible? We were dancing a waltz of wills, and neither of us was willing to back down. This was new for me, another first.
We couldn’t stop looking at each other. The oxygen kept getting caught in my lungs. My jaw begged to grind, my hands aching to clinch. I wanted her. She wanted to devour me. But I would never let that happen. Why spoil the fun? There was still too much to say, too much heat to build. I like to savor, and talk about the possibilities in great detail, nothing, I mean nothing raises my awareness and moistens my spirits more than the talk. If you’ve got my mind then you’ve found my weak spot. If you can make me think about something I’ve never questioned before you might as well consider your hand up my dress with me watching you every inch along the way.
We were outside, it was dark; cars were passing. I saw an opportunity, a firm place to push her and press my body against hers. Who was I? I stepped my left foot in between her legs and my right to the outside of her left, I had my bearings. I was on solid ground. I placed my hands on the brick wall behind her, on each side of her body. I had her where I wanted as I moved in closer. I held her hostage with my gaze. My breasts were on her, my pubic bone inching forward until I met her high-upper thigh. I stopped, and just stared at her, chest lifting and lowering. Eyes open as I pressed my lips to her mouth. Neither of us dared a muscle. We were captivated–lungs filling and releasing, blood pumping, swelling parts, dilated eyes–by our kiss.
And then something happened. Everything changed, a shift in energy.
I found myself up against the wall. There were cars going by, I felt the wind on my face, she had me by the back of the head. Her fingers laced through my hair, my neck exposed, she held me in a firm grip, and I heard myself moan.
My eyes opened and closed. I was nothing but a doll; this is what I’ve been waiting for but will I allow it?
***Disclaimer: So you know, this is my second or fifth attempt at writing a fictional piece. However, within every lie is always an element of truth. You decide.
I’ve been quiet, building a storm, resting and gathering my strength. I don’t know what it looks like yet, but the change is coming. I won’t be held down for long.
Love and a Kiss, Shannon