...eat this...
It always starts out with us holding hands, strolling without destination through an oversized, two-story, one-hundred-plus-store mall glazed over with cheap porcelain floors & broken escalators. The scent of Chinese food overpowering any other odor trying to sift thru the already dense air. I get weary because I miss the aromatic perfume that lingers in your nape already. But I can still feel it in my wrists. Sometimes it’s all about justification. It’s all about rationalizing the things that question what you love the most. It’s all about her eyes illustrious under the high ceiling cascade of halogen & fluorescent light bulbs. It’s all about the aimless feeling I get when she’s walking by my side in the middle of a summer afternoon, her black cotton skirt a waterfall of style & her chic ‘new’ thrift store tee shirt worn thin & perfect. It all sits grafted to her magnificent body.
And then I see it at the exact same moment that she does. Off a few more steps. Just sitting there all dusty & ill-lit in one of the loneliest corners of the enormous, industrial construct. Made of Plexiglas, metal, film & chemicals - the photo booth. As I look into the autumn leaves that are her eyes I ask if she’d care to share a few moments with me. Join me for and instantaneous serenade. She kisses my cheek & smiles, and pulls me with passion over towards our personal little darkroom. “I thought you’d never ask…”
So there we sit with big, bright eyes, a bit uncomfortable but seemingly with all the room we could ask for. Curtains drawn like capes around us. Hiding her, me & our bottled up feelings for each other. Preparing us for this little escapade. But she’s sitting on my lap, singing faintly to herself, counting out mixed change & crumpled up singles, & I can’t help but start kissing at her neck & the back of her ear. She laughs a bit disdainfully with just the slightest hint of playfulness. That’s my girl. Conceding, giving in, she throws the money into the appropriate slot & raises her arms to the ceiling of the booth. Her pale, cherubic face staring back at us in the reflective surface. At first I caught her eyes out of the corner of mine, then I did what came naturally, & I put my palms against her cheeks, caressing her earlobes with the tips of my thumbs as if she were delicate glass, & I pressed my lips firmly into hers.
(one…two…three…flash)
I can taste the bees wax feel from the gloss on her lips & it’s a menagerie of strawberries & raspberries. And after a bit of the first integration of our entanglement, my tongue takes a small break from swimming around with hers to run itself gently across her mouth. Tiny dry spots catch the tip of my tongue like barbs & I could be caught like this until 4.30 in the morning if I had to. And she breathes a little moan of satisfaction without even realizing it because my hands have all the sudden made their way curiously down to her breasts.
(one…two…three…flash)
And before we can blink our eyes to adjust to the way the light had just held us, we’ve removed each other’s shirts. Both of them lay sprawled across the floor like two ghosts resting from exhaustion. And she says to me “Kiss me like it’s the first time all over again. Let me feel it all over my skin. Let me know I’m enjoying every goddamned second of this.” Who am I to deny?
(one…two…three…flash)
She then pivots from my lap until she’s straddling me face first, her legs spread like a paper fan around my quivering body, only it isn’t cooling me down any. Up & down & up & down, she’s fingering my spine with her nails painted a chipped away shade of pink. I can feel the edge of each cuticle dig deeper & deeper. And then she stops kissing me for a second to pick my chin up. Oh god, don’t stop yet. My eyes reaching for a focal point, my neck & Adam’s apple bare & exposed, she licks ever inch of them both with the charity of unashamed lust...then takes a vampiric bite into my neck & I instantly yelp, punch the vanity mirror at our sides, and the tops of my fingers are bleeding all over the walls, all over our shirts, all over us.
(one…two…three…flash)
This is where, in my attempt at a quick vendetta, I move my hands under her skirt, which hangs like intense, velvet ballroom drapes over my thighs. My thumb starts to make an outline of where her already-moist panties seem serrated (but not quite separated) with the very apex of her legs. I grab onto one of them with my other hand & with the same thumb that traced a chalk outline around her O’Keefe rendition, I move her underwear over to one side & grace her lips and her clit with the entirety of my first two fingers. The arousal of our rendezvous has us both breathing heavy as though smoke is saturating our lungs & our blood has been switched with pure endorphins & aphrodisiacs. And right in the middle of this claustrophobic perversion, she reaches down & sticks more money into out machine. How coy.
And we’re posing as possessed lovers trapped in each other’s grips, unable to let go for anyone or anything, only losing eye contact to breathe a sigh of relief, to pleasantly break the mesh that is out mouths. Or break your mouth from my chest. Or break my mouth from her clavicle. Or break my teeth from her soft nipples. Or break her lips from my fingers. Can she taste this all yet?
(one…two…three…flash)
So everything is a blur as the excitement starts to climb slowly to its peak & I tell her I want her in the worst way possible. She smiles & tells me to beg for her. So I sidle my lips to her left ear & whisper “I want to see what it’s like inside you, to feel what you feel, for our nerves to entwine & melt like absinthe would on out taste buds. I beg you to let me be even more a part of you than I had hoped for because I can’t take it anymore. Because…” And I pause. “…because je suis la tête par-dessus les talons avec tout que nous avons, mon amour, et j'ai appartenu à vos yeux.”
(one…two…three…flash)
Foreign tongue. It pushed her hard over the edge. With stealth & slight of hand she threw my belt to the ground, unzipped my already-risen khaki shorts & pulled my libido through the opening. Fresh air at last. And with and effortless ease she rose a few inches & landed back down on top of me again in one fell swoop. The end result had our gears locked in place, our fluids mixing, our intentions roaring & ready to go.
(one…two…three…flash)
Now she’s slowly grinding me like a dull axe. Precise & erotic & surprising. Emotions I’m not used to dealing with. Feelings holding me down like leather straps. Restraints. Only I’m not bound, but we are. We’re weightless & careless & unabashed & soaking wet & smiling blindly & screaming though our teeth & I can’t stop kissing her all over.
(one…two…three…flash)
(…3 more dollars…)
And the heat gets to me so much that with her legs wrapped tight around my waist I pick her up & place her roughly against the inside wall of our room, somewhat adjacent to the broken mirror that got caught up in this mess with us. It harbors our images like hundreds of little criminals, plea bargains being out of the question. And I’m pushing harder & pulsing slower in time with her. And somehow I know for a split second that our eyes closed at the same exact moment of the immense build-up.
(one…two…three…flash)
And with the gasps of air & the riptide of want & greed & adrenaline in our bones, we scrape against the wall like her nails into my stomach. We rake back & forth under our private spotlight, under the enclosure of sought out aggression. The urge to just cry out for mercy & beg her to stop torturing me subsides as I feel the tension mounting between our legs & between us. Rising, boiling, exceeding the limitations of our senses. Our hearts racing madly, beating rapidly, noisily trying to escape from our chests. Our bellies kissing like raindrops against your eyelashes, like cricket legs, like bows against violin strings. And then an outburst between the two of us. Our demise. An orgasmic tide smothering the white sands of our beaches.
(one…two…three…flash)
Collapse.
(one…two…three…flash)
We rest a few seconds just staring at each other. One listless hand in the other still gripping for dear life. “You kill me every single time. I know you will be the fucking end of me.” I manage to spit out. A moment soon after she replies “As long as it all goes down in my arms I will gladly be your murderer.” It was so sweet. I was dumbstruck. Not at the villainous tones, but at the syntax of such romantics involved. I grin ear to ear & kiss her forehead as a thank you. “I fucking adore you.” And through the sweat beaded hair hanging in my eyes I search quickly & grab our garments. We quietly re-dress & gain our composure. But her gorgeous body is so goddamned distracting. Distracting enough that I don’t notice a few shocked onlookers. Or a very angry security guard about to tear back the red curtain that once caged us inside. And as he leads us away, with her right wrist & my left wrist cuffed together, she cunningly grabs the dozen images that made everything fit together so well. The pictures that made everything worth while. A timeline of our endeavor. A blueprint of our disaster. Amour. And as we walk away all sweaty & bloodied & bruised & weak kneed & prophetically serene, I bow out o the crowd with my partner in crime, our shirts still hanging halfway off. We laugh hysterically through the uncounted number of eyes plastered to our love scene.
Hand in hand we look over our slightly pornographic self-portraits, & in unison we describe them in the only word that comes to mind:
“…brilliant…”
(flash)
Fin.
And then I see it at the exact same moment that she does. Off a few more steps. Just sitting there all dusty & ill-lit in one of the loneliest corners of the enormous, industrial construct. Made of Plexiglas, metal, film & chemicals - the photo booth. As I look into the autumn leaves that are her eyes I ask if she’d care to share a few moments with me. Join me for and instantaneous serenade. She kisses my cheek & smiles, and pulls me with passion over towards our personal little darkroom. “I thought you’d never ask…”
So there we sit with big, bright eyes, a bit uncomfortable but seemingly with all the room we could ask for. Curtains drawn like capes around us. Hiding her, me & our bottled up feelings for each other. Preparing us for this little escapade. But she’s sitting on my lap, singing faintly to herself, counting out mixed change & crumpled up singles, & I can’t help but start kissing at her neck & the back of her ear. She laughs a bit disdainfully with just the slightest hint of playfulness. That’s my girl. Conceding, giving in, she throws the money into the appropriate slot & raises her arms to the ceiling of the booth. Her pale, cherubic face staring back at us in the reflective surface. At first I caught her eyes out of the corner of mine, then I did what came naturally, & I put my palms against her cheeks, caressing her earlobes with the tips of my thumbs as if she were delicate glass, & I pressed my lips firmly into hers.
(one…two…three…flash)
I can taste the bees wax feel from the gloss on her lips & it’s a menagerie of strawberries & raspberries. And after a bit of the first integration of our entanglement, my tongue takes a small break from swimming around with hers to run itself gently across her mouth. Tiny dry spots catch the tip of my tongue like barbs & I could be caught like this until 4.30 in the morning if I had to. And she breathes a little moan of satisfaction without even realizing it because my hands have all the sudden made their way curiously down to her breasts.
(one…two…three…flash)
And before we can blink our eyes to adjust to the way the light had just held us, we’ve removed each other’s shirts. Both of them lay sprawled across the floor like two ghosts resting from exhaustion. And she says to me “Kiss me like it’s the first time all over again. Let me feel it all over my skin. Let me know I’m enjoying every goddamned second of this.” Who am I to deny?
(one…two…three…flash)
She then pivots from my lap until she’s straddling me face first, her legs spread like a paper fan around my quivering body, only it isn’t cooling me down any. Up & down & up & down, she’s fingering my spine with her nails painted a chipped away shade of pink. I can feel the edge of each cuticle dig deeper & deeper. And then she stops kissing me for a second to pick my chin up. Oh god, don’t stop yet. My eyes reaching for a focal point, my neck & Adam’s apple bare & exposed, she licks ever inch of them both with the charity of unashamed lust...then takes a vampiric bite into my neck & I instantly yelp, punch the vanity mirror at our sides, and the tops of my fingers are bleeding all over the walls, all over our shirts, all over us.
(one…two…three…flash)
This is where, in my attempt at a quick vendetta, I move my hands under her skirt, which hangs like intense, velvet ballroom drapes over my thighs. My thumb starts to make an outline of where her already-moist panties seem serrated (but not quite separated) with the very apex of her legs. I grab onto one of them with my other hand & with the same thumb that traced a chalk outline around her O’Keefe rendition, I move her underwear over to one side & grace her lips and her clit with the entirety of my first two fingers. The arousal of our rendezvous has us both breathing heavy as though smoke is saturating our lungs & our blood has been switched with pure endorphins & aphrodisiacs. And right in the middle of this claustrophobic perversion, she reaches down & sticks more money into out machine. How coy.
And we’re posing as possessed lovers trapped in each other’s grips, unable to let go for anyone or anything, only losing eye contact to breathe a sigh of relief, to pleasantly break the mesh that is out mouths. Or break your mouth from my chest. Or break my mouth from her clavicle. Or break my teeth from her soft nipples. Or break her lips from my fingers. Can she taste this all yet?
(one…two…three…flash)
So everything is a blur as the excitement starts to climb slowly to its peak & I tell her I want her in the worst way possible. She smiles & tells me to beg for her. So I sidle my lips to her left ear & whisper “I want to see what it’s like inside you, to feel what you feel, for our nerves to entwine & melt like absinthe would on out taste buds. I beg you to let me be even more a part of you than I had hoped for because I can’t take it anymore. Because…” And I pause. “…because je suis la tête par-dessus les talons avec tout que nous avons, mon amour, et j'ai appartenu à vos yeux.”
(one…two…three…flash)
Foreign tongue. It pushed her hard over the edge. With stealth & slight of hand she threw my belt to the ground, unzipped my already-risen khaki shorts & pulled my libido through the opening. Fresh air at last. And with and effortless ease she rose a few inches & landed back down on top of me again in one fell swoop. The end result had our gears locked in place, our fluids mixing, our intentions roaring & ready to go.
(one…two…three…flash)
Now she’s slowly grinding me like a dull axe. Precise & erotic & surprising. Emotions I’m not used to dealing with. Feelings holding me down like leather straps. Restraints. Only I’m not bound, but we are. We’re weightless & careless & unabashed & soaking wet & smiling blindly & screaming though our teeth & I can’t stop kissing her all over.
(one…two…three…flash)
(…3 more dollars…)
And the heat gets to me so much that with her legs wrapped tight around my waist I pick her up & place her roughly against the inside wall of our room, somewhat adjacent to the broken mirror that got caught up in this mess with us. It harbors our images like hundreds of little criminals, plea bargains being out of the question. And I’m pushing harder & pulsing slower in time with her. And somehow I know for a split second that our eyes closed at the same exact moment of the immense build-up.
(one…two…three…flash)
And with the gasps of air & the riptide of want & greed & adrenaline in our bones, we scrape against the wall like her nails into my stomach. We rake back & forth under our private spotlight, under the enclosure of sought out aggression. The urge to just cry out for mercy & beg her to stop torturing me subsides as I feel the tension mounting between our legs & between us. Rising, boiling, exceeding the limitations of our senses. Our hearts racing madly, beating rapidly, noisily trying to escape from our chests. Our bellies kissing like raindrops against your eyelashes, like cricket legs, like bows against violin strings. And then an outburst between the two of us. Our demise. An orgasmic tide smothering the white sands of our beaches.
(one…two…three…flash)
Collapse.
(one…two…three…flash)
We rest a few seconds just staring at each other. One listless hand in the other still gripping for dear life. “You kill me every single time. I know you will be the fucking end of me.” I manage to spit out. A moment soon after she replies “As long as it all goes down in my arms I will gladly be your murderer.” It was so sweet. I was dumbstruck. Not at the villainous tones, but at the syntax of such romantics involved. I grin ear to ear & kiss her forehead as a thank you. “I fucking adore you.” And through the sweat beaded hair hanging in my eyes I search quickly & grab our garments. We quietly re-dress & gain our composure. But her gorgeous body is so goddamned distracting. Distracting enough that I don’t notice a few shocked onlookers. Or a very angry security guard about to tear back the red curtain that once caged us inside. And as he leads us away, with her right wrist & my left wrist cuffed together, she cunningly grabs the dozen images that made everything fit together so well. The pictures that made everything worth while. A timeline of our endeavor. A blueprint of our disaster. Amour. And as we walk away all sweaty & bloodied & bruised & weak kneed & prophetically serene, I bow out o the crowd with my partner in crime, our shirts still hanging halfway off. We laugh hysterically through the uncounted number of eyes plastered to our love scene.
Hand in hand we look over our slightly pornographic self-portraits, & in unison we describe them in the only word that comes to mind:
“…brilliant…”
(flash)
Fin.