Results of the imagination

She’s sitting at her worn out desk, the kind of desk everybody would trade in for a plastic table given the chance, just to feel like they can escape the past ages, and stares into her blank computer screen. Where is imagination supposed to come from if the mind is filled with clouds of blurry thoughts that wouldn’t make sense to even the most prestigious shrink? Some people ask you to deliver inspiration with the push of a button and a double espresso. “Yeah right…”

As she keeps on staring into the smudged window that is her only connection with the outside world, her thoughts wander to those conversations that seem to replace the need of breathing lately. “It just doesn’t make sense damn it! They’re nothing but words thrown at me like cold rain on a steaming windshield. It’s agony!!

The ring of the telephone interrupts her thoughts as nails on the chalk board. Pissed off she turns her head and tries to remember where the hell that noise is coming from. As she glances through the dark, barely lit room, it feels like she doesn’t even remember where she is; who’s lonely apartment is this?

“What??!?!?”

On the other end, her friend Tony starts laughing.

“Easy now, …..easy! I’m just calling to see if you feel like grabbing a drink. It seems like sleep has forgotten about me and it would be just a shame to waste this time with left over Chinese food and some really bad beer. You in?”

“What time is it?”

“About 2:30. AM that is, why?

“Oh, just asking. I think I lost the sense of time. All my senses for that matter.”

“What? What are you babbling about?”

“Oh nothing, I’ll meet you at Sammie’s in 20, ok?

“Ok!”

She grabs her keys, her cell, and her purse and before she can walk out the door she notices that all she has on is an oversized white sleeveless shirt, left over from an old boyfriend who’s faded in her memory, and some ripped shorts, that for some reason just seem to embody comfort in every sense of the word.

“Oopsie, I doubt this meets the dress code. Would be nice though.”

She makes in 25 minutes to Sammie’s, late as always, but it doesn’t matter. Her friends know better than to expect her to be on time, ever.

“I’m here, did you get me something?”

“Yeah, your nothing on ice is right there.”

“Funny. Sometimes I wonder how come I don’t seem to miss your humor. “

“It’s because I never give you a chance to.”

The night continued into the morning with conversations about stupid issues that usually become interesting after a few drinks; very interesting and worth debating.

The hustle and bustle of city life seemed to have renewed its energy and once with the sunlight began a new day, hopeful and filled with unexpected events, and for some, a new 18 hour torture. What it had in store for our “little Ms. Sunshine” she didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. Like a vampire she craved the night and its sweet release from questions and demands, obligations and never-ending social to do’s.

“At last, home.”

Her apartment was far from the place anybody would call home. Filled with furniture designed for the 30^th century, it presented a feeling that was close to “get the fuck out,” instead of “welcome home.” Exactly the feeling she meant to portray to all her guests. It’s always better to visit people than to be visited. In the event that people, so called friends, do seem to find their way to your natural habitat, it seems next to impossible to make them leave. Granted, most of the time she wanted them gone before they even came, but there have been times when playing the host wasn’t all that repulsive, and still, the “guests” seemed to have no inclination to retrieve to their own caves. These events became less and less frequent, and thus more and more appreciated.

She dropped her keys into the bowl next to the front door, which purpose of course was not to hold keys, but sweets for the loving, and headed into the living room, not looking where she stepped, but reviewing the mountain of waste, which the government chooses to call US mail.

“Bills, bills, bullshit, bullshit…yeah…hat’s it. Very welcoming and as always, not disappointing.”

Her mahogany kitchen, not holding more than two wine glasses and a few plates, was covered in work. It seemed that the office moved to the kitchen since there was not enough room on her desk downtown. Work became as natural as the need to breath, and somehow it wasn’t a task, but an escape from socializing. What a burden that seemed to be. Acting like you give to shits about somebody’s cat or dog, or fish, or hamster, or whatever was the problem of the week. It’s normal, but what does normal mean? Normal to who? To those who care? She didn’t care, at least not enough to tell people she couldn’t care less.

Armed with a glass or vintage red wine, she made her way through the living room, turning on the news, towards her bedroom. Beginning to undress and take the city off of her, she noticed something blinking on the computer. Half naked she marched towards it to see if he had remembered her existence. After managing her way through endless pop ups and inquires of health, already reaching half of her glass of wine, there it was; his message, reading:

“I am here, you’re not…what now?” Sent 7:57 pm.

She looked on her watch, it read 8-15 pm.

She kept staring at the screen, at the stupid message.

“What the hell is this supposed to mean? What does he want me to do, sit in front of the damn computer all day, waiting for him to pay me some attention, and getting a flat ass in the meantime?”

Too bad the wine didn’t have the desired effect yet and she wrote him just what she thought he should do.

“Use your right hand first, then the left, alternate, and you should experience some kind of pleasure. If you don’t, bend over.”

She got up, left her now empty glass on the little worn out desk, and went to take a shower. It was her escape from herself. The place to forget yourself and just enjoy the hot water burning on your porcelain skin. If it were only that easy to let go.

The thoughts of him haunted her. She closed her eyes, trying to escape him, but no such luck. The hot water become cold rain, and she woke up running on a field of green grass. She was barefoot, dressed in a white camisole, and she was running for her life. Her tears burning on her red cheeks, her hair carried by the screaming wind, she came to a halt underneath a big lonely tree. It was the only thing around, the only place of comfort. She stopped and without noticing her legs giving up on her heavy body, she dropped to her knees, resting her aching body on the comforting strength of that big, old tree.

The rain was coming down, hard as ever and still no noise could be heard. Her eyes closed, she started to breathe again. The dark that followed her seemed to pass by her; it gave up. Her arms began to try and warm up her body, but to no array. Sleep has come to take her away.

His soft kiss warmed her blood. His touch seemed to burn her skin. Helpless she surrendered to his calling and relaxed her body. He continued to explore her cold body, feeling her warmth following his touch. Her neck, so smooth, seemed like an invitation to his kiss; one he wouldn’t miss, never again. He touched her legs, slowly parted them, and continued searching for that hollow ground that he knew was aching for his touch. His touches caressed her stomach, her thighs, her buttocks. She was hot…he needed her to be hot.

A loud ring woke her up from her daze.

The hot steam almost suffocated her bathroom and she became dizzy. She needed air, cold air. She turned the shower off and putting a towel on, made her way to the living room to answer the phone.

“What?!”

“Hmm…a little grumpy are we now?”

“Not really.”

“I’m here, open up.”

“What?”

How did he know where she lives? Why did he come?

She was holding onto the receiver and on the other end the dial tone was telling here the conversation was over. It’s time for facts. She stood there, in her towel, her wet hair dripping on her back; not able to move or to breath. He was actually here, in front of her door, ready to come in, and then what?

A persistent knock on the door awoke her from her inner conversations. She walked to door and mechanically opened up. He was standing in front of her, in the dark hallway, staring at her. None of them said a word. It was understood.

He reached to wipe away the drips of water that danced on her face. His touch was cold. She stepped back; she didn’t know why.

He took control and stepped forward, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her hot body against him. His cold breath covered her skin in ice. He lifted her to her toes and placed a kiss on her parted lips.

The towel dropped and he lifted her onto him. Her hands surrounding his neck, their lips never parted. The kiss intensified and their tongues eagerly joint for relief.

He made his way to her bedroom and dropped her body onto the black silk covered bed. Lying there, all naked, all she could do was to watch him undress. Time seemed to stand still and she enjoyed every second of it. One by one, his clothes fell to the ground, and he stood there, in the fluorescent light of the street lamps that barely lit her room, staring at her.

His gaze, so inviting, she got up, on her knees and started exploring his body with her hands. He didn’t move; his breath intensified. She started caressing his shoulders, tracing his collar bones with her finger. Her lips followed their path and tasted his salty skin. He didn’t move. Her touch became painful to him.

She looked up, into his dark eyes, seeing the pain she was creating for him; it was pure pleasure to her. Her warm hands continued to caress his chest, tickled by the hair she encountered, she laughed like a little girl. Suddenly he realized that is play time, not feeding time. His hunger had to wait.

She jumped up and pushed him onto the chair behind him. Kneeling down in front of him, she started kissing his stomach. He continued staring at her. He lost control, and it felt good. His body relaxed underneath her touch and he let himself go. It was her time to satisfy.

She grabbed his shaft and started caressing it with her tongue while moving her hand in rapid motions up and down. It tasted good, a bit salty, but then again, so was everything about him, a “bit salty.” Her mouth invited him in and he came. He was wet all over, and felt the caresses of her hungry lips exploring his cock.

It was too much, he made her stop. He grabbed her neck and roughly brought her up in front of him. She smiled, knowing what pleasure she inflicted. He brought her lips to his and devoured her for what seemed like an eternity.

She pulled back and touched her lip. It was bleeding. He hurt her. Angry at himself, he stepped back and stared at her licking her blood of her lips with her tongue.

“It’s sweet, wanna try?”

He said nothing but came towards her and gave her a gentle hug. How could he have hurt her? That was the last thing on his mind, but damn her, she asked for it.

All of the sudden, she broke the silence with a loud laugh.

“Stop being a little girl and let’s get to it.”

God, how annoying she could be!!

They moved to the bed and began kissing and caressing each other. She was covered by his broad shoulders and she loved it. Now he was in control and that was totally ok with her.

His cold lips traced her neck, played with her breasts, nibbled on her stomach and sent shivers all over her body. It was too much, she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Please!…”

This time, he obliged her and entered her aching body. She was hot, so hot it burned his skin. As he entered, she arched her back and sighed in relief. It was only to get better.

“You look a little tired, rough night?”

“You could say that”

Tony and she were having their usual Sunday brunch. It’s the best time to discuss the events of the past week and just repeat the mistakes that just can’t be corrected; or so it seems. It’s also a lovely time to people watch; a past time both really enjoy.

“So, I got a call from Dan the other night.”

“And? Did he step and fall into some brain matter?”

“Highly doubtful. He’s just pissing me off so badly, I feel like I could strangle him through the receiver.”

“Now that’s a task worth striving for.”

“You know, sometimes I really wonder how much stupidity can fit into a 6ft tall body. It’s truly bewildering.”

“Yeah…anyways, what did he want?”

“What do you think? Sex. I can’t believe him. “

“Well, he must be under the impression that hell froze over, if that thought entered his mind. “

“It might just have, I wouldn’t know, I didn’t check the weather report this week.”

Time went by and brunch turned into a couple of drinks and a spilling of inner guts. Its impressive how once a girls gets a chance to be listened to, she has so much to say; too much of course. The minute it’s said, it’s regretted. But that’s what girls are there for, to listen, to share their biased opinion, and to pretend it’s never been said; and of course there is shoe shopping. Never to be under appreciated.