I saw her first in frozen foods.Perhaps “saw” is something of a cop-out; to be honest, I
I saw her first in frozen foods.Perhaps “saw” is something of a cop-out; to be honest, I stared. And just what did I see? Yes, of course, a pretty thing. Slight and long and lean, she had a mouth like ripe fruit just going soft. She moved as if she had no use for the crude stretch and pull of the muscles the rest of us use; she seemed powered by some fluid magic. Every gesture seemed liquid and effortless.I also saw Madame Deveaux’s School of Dance at age 8, a pony at 12. I saw the Brearly School and Sarah Lawrence and summers abroad. I saw the Hamptons and a limestone pile in the East 70s. I saw cotillions at daddy’s club with some guy named Chip.I wondered if common calloused hands had ever passed over that trust fund skin.She looked my way, and I turned my head quickly – too quickly? Was I obvious? – and pressed my face to the glass freezer door, as if I were suddenly fascinated by Stouffer’s turkey dinner. She and her cart passed by closely – so closely one might ask if she had some reason – and when she did, she smelled like April – like bougainvillea blooms and the patter of soft rain. I lingered there with the fragrance.As we circled the store, we passed each other several times, like two moons on eccentric orbits around the same sun, and each time she came into view, I watched how she moved, and I wondered how she’d feel. Her slight frame beneath me, her breath on my neck, her nipples hard on my tongue. I wondered how this creature would sound in the process of surrender.When I turned into the pasta aisle, there she was, was standing at the far end, looking me straight in the eye. There was no denying now. No artifice. I screwed up my courage, abandoned my cart and walked towards her. Slowly, looking her in the eyes. Making my purpose clear.She did the same. No fear. No hesitation. No smile.I got close – very close. I drew my body up to hers, so close to hers that we nearly touched, but did not. I brought my mouth to her ear and let my cheek brush against hers, and for a moment that felt like forever, I said nothing; I just felt the heat, my stubble tickling at the velvet of her skin. Finally, I said “there’s a place, here, at the back of your neck, where your hair turns to down and your spine begins its trip south, where your shoulders meet … it needs lips. I wonder if it has been properly kissed.” Her fingers slipped to the back of my head and pulled me gently down so that her mouth met my ear, and she answered “I was wondering if you were up to the job,” and the tip of her tongue did a circuit along the outer rim of my ear. “We can find out … when your cock is in my ass.”I wonder which of the poor kids working that Whole Foods had to put back all the things in those two carts, and to whom I owe a tip.[Please do not remove the text from this post. Thank you] -- source link
Tumblr Blog : raininjuarez.tumblr.com