What can I say about last night? I can say
that it will
never happen again. I can say that it was cruelly short. I
can
say that the feel of her against me will
stay with me 'til I
breathe my last. I can not say that I know her name.
I had been moping on a stool at the bar. The din ebbed and
flowed in my ears. I was alone. Self-pitying. Almost oblivious.
But I heard her. Thank goodness, I heard her. I don't know
how
long she had been sitting next to me. Her head was in
her left
hand and she was crying quietly. Her red-gold hair bounced
and
shimmered each time she stifled a sob. I
wanted not to say a
word.
"Can I help you?"
"No."
I motioned the 'keep over.
"Double Korbel--warm--in a snifter for her. Beer for me."
She looked at me then, her green eyes rimmed
red with
crying. Her pert nose poked a bit to the left and the
gloss on
her thin lips could have adorned a fire truck. Such a beautiful
mess.
"You shouldn't have done that. You're very kind."
"My pleasure."
"Thank you."
"What could be bothering someone as beautiful as you?"
She rolled her eyes and buried her forehead in the crook of
her right arm.
"You've misunderstood me. I envy you. Something hurt
you
and you don't care what anyone thinks about how you look or
how
you sound. I'll bet the opposite sex is the last thing on
your
mind right now. I'm in the same boat as you but I can't
cry. I
wish I could but I just can't"
She sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. The
bartender set down our drinks and let us be.
"Tell me," she said.
I drew in all the air I could hold and blew it across
the
bar through puffed cheeks. I began. I don't need to tell you the
story. You have your own variation if you've ever really
loved
somebody. You probably know mine. She listened. I can't tell you
when she clasped my hand or when she put her head on my shoulder.
That was how we were sitting when I finished.
"God! Don't you hate it when people you don't
even know
start boring you with the intimate details of their lives,
uh,
um--I just realized I don't know your name. Mine's..."
She put her hand over my mouth. She wasn't crying now. She
gave me her brandy and began to talk. Her story was mine. Except
that she was going back home tonight. Home
to another coast.
Another life. I kissed her cheek when she finished.
"Where's your car," I asked.
"Around the corner."
"Let's go."
She took my arm. We ambled through the doors together like
old friends. She had parked in a side lot under a venerable
old
maple tree. The bilious glow of a sodium-vapor lamp was our only
light. The night was clear, starry and cold.
I kissed her again. Lightly. Our lips barely
touched. I
pressed them against her cheek and her neck. She pulled
me to
her and tasted my lips. She darted her tongue over them. She ran
it against my teeth. Our breathing had
been quiet; almost
reverent. We were breathing hard, now, through
our noses. Our
bodies fought the cold with slow, sinewy friction. We knew all we
had to know. We were together. We needed each other.
She searched under my overcoat until she found what she was
looking for. She pulled down the zipper, reached inside and held
me. She moaned through pursed lips and backed against the maple.
I opened the front of her thick wool coat
and unbuttoned her
blouse. I kissed the lush plain of her chest below her neck.
I
slid my hand beneath her underwire and kneaded the firm roughness
of her nipple.
I felt a thin, cool hand on my
wrist. She pulled. She
pushed. We raised the hem of her skirt.
I felt heat and
moisture. I tugged what felt like silk aside and felt something
silkier still. Down. There. I held her on the tip of my finger.
She began to move; slowly at first. Her grip became tighter. She
pulled me slowly in time to her own rapture. We were electrified.
We were without free will. We spoke with our
eyes. A long,
smoldering conversation with her on the tip of my finger and
me
in the palm of her hand.
It was the sight of her with her head back that brought me
off. She drew air threw her nose and hurled it through clenched
teeth. She shook. She clasped the back of my neck and pulled
me
closer to her with a low, feral snarl. I shuddered in her hand.
She quivered in mine.
We leaned against each other. Little orgasmic
remnants
bounced back and forth between us as we stood there shivering in
the orange-yellow light. I kissed her again and held
her for
awhile.
"You don't know how much I wish things were different."
"I know, honey. I know."
"Couldn't we try to reach each other? Wouldn't you like to
know my name?"
"I always want you with me. I always want to feel about you
as I do right now. You're kind and gentle. You're
handsome. I
want to imagine how you taste. I want to imagine you on top
of
me. I want to imagine you inside me..."
"But..."
"This way, I'll always love you."
I watched her go. It's funny. As
I lie here trying to
sleep, all I can do is wonder how I can get her off my mind.