Words are innocent. They stand neutral until people get in the way hiding connotations between inflections, meaning between gestures.
“I’m going to ask you to do something for me,” she said, “but you can’t ask me to reciprocate.”
He stood beside the bed looking down on her. The room was dark apart from the low glow of light escaping from the half-shut bathroom door. It was enough light for him to see the smudged mascara around her eyes. Had he done that? She was still in her red dress, damp and clinging to her body. Her perfume, soft and spicy, mingled with the smell of musky clothes made wet from the autumn storm they had walked through to get to here.
She didn’t belong here in this room with him. But she had looked lost at the party like a wild animal that suddenly finds itself trapped inside a house, confronted by the screams of a frightened wife. He had stepped in like a man full of courage and indifference to shoo the scared beast out the back door.
“Take off your shirt,” she said, “I know I have no right to ask you this, but you invited me here and I want to know how your mind works.”
Words can build bridges across chasms of incomprehension and chaos. But as she shifted her position in the bed to make room for him, he could only comprehend the thought of her naked. She was the real thing, sexy, hot, and ambitious. She was also not his wife. But then, the idea of marriage and a wife were only social constructs to legalize the transference of property. Marriage was nothing more than a legal transaction.
Morality is for the meek, a concept that exists in the mind and free for interpretation. None of it is real.
She was reality.
And he looked forward to getting to know reality in a way he had never known reality before.
“Where does your mind go when you are not here?” She asked.
“As far as I know, if your mind is not in the present, it goes in one of four places, either in the future, the past, subjective-me, or objective-you.”
He slipped her dress off.
She didn’t protest.
“Give me example,” she whispered, nibbling on his ear.
“A moment ago, when you walked into my room dripping wet from the rain, immediately my mind jumped to an imagined future of you naked and in my bed. I trembled with excitement over something that was not real. And all things considered, should never be real.”
“It is real now, no?”
“Oh yes, if we’re defining reality by what we can see, taste, touch, hear, and smell.”
He kissed her small breasts.
“Our minds can take a walk into an imagined future and fill us with excitement or dread depending on what we imagine the future to be like. Or our minds can take a dip into the past and fill us with either nostalgia or regret depending oh how we choose to remember the past.”
“I only think about the here and now. I care nothing about the past and even less about the future,” she said.
“That’s a good place to be if you can pull it off,” he said.
She kissed him hard. And in that moment of her hot kiss, he forgot about his past and his future. He forgot about his obligations and responsibilities and the promises he made.
He forgot about…
Of a kiss…Categorised in: short fiction