Take Another Look











{January 12, 2010}   the room without doors

I walked into the spacious suite and breathed the scent of silk sheets and hot coffee on brew. I meant to put on a cute brown see-through piece of lingerĂ©, but I didn’t have time. I was kind of tired, but I was really nervous. Not sure if I wanted to be there. Not sure if I could give what he wanted, ironically enough. I gulped down ten number 2 clonipins. They didn’t do a thing to my multiplying heart rate. Before I could put on make-up or change, a knock on the door. I hid behind the door as it swung open, until I briskly stepped aside at the last moment to avoid being crushed.

He entered furtively enough, gently setting his coat garments down on a nearby chair. I gulped air like a girl who’d been holding her breath under water for minutes, the need for intake enormous. The palpable feeling that I was going to get water in my lungs if I let myself inhale. I didn’t know how deep under his ocean of magnetism I was. Before I went under, I remember thinking I’m off guard, he caught me unprepared. Then the last squeeze of rational consciousness faded. All the possibilities I didn’t have time to juggle feeling or thinking anymore flickered and danced. He was here now. I could scrape my nails against his skin as hard as I wanted, or trace his face as lightly and delicately as possible. I’d ruffle his hair and kiss him for as long as I wanted. He wouldn’t stop me. I loved that he wouldn’t stop me…anything was possible.

A wall was behind me, how far I didn’t stop to guess, I just continued my walking backwards, my naked shoulders pointing to the wall as I continued darting back and forth on reckless footing. His steps were not labored or reckless. They were surprisingly graceful and agile. As he advanced swiftly, I tried not to notice what he was doing, how he was approaching. I eyed the floor, the door, and the bed wildly, using my heightened state of mind to take in every detail in the room except for him.

Then there wasn’t any room left for me to backtrack and he pushed himself against me and I wanted him in me then and there. I was gutter punched on a road without any air left to intake. The only thing that took my consciousness next was the sensation of desire- no, no, is that the word? Not that there wasn’t desire. Merely that it was some kind of understanding, or a language that didn’t need words to affirm their meaning. His hands, emboldened by a drowning sensation so strong on my part I was ashamed. I was so reckless, even when I wasn’t squirming. A lingering kiss on the lips made my legs quaver slightly. He took control; he’d known I’d wanted him to even if I hadn’t. He stilled me and I moved no more except for my mouth and tongue. I was finally as still inside as a gazelle alert for a hunter when he kissed me.

He traced my skin gently. He didn’t need to ask if I needed to be touched. Some people have one off hand, one on hand. I was used to somebody who didn’t really use their hands. But both of his hands were on hands. His fingers were a hummingbird below me as I gazed over a cliff. His fingers were nimble, his tongue probing. I didn’t need the clonipin. I wanted him in, I so wanted him, but I didn’t even need the sex. I just needed to remember what human kindness felt like. It’s ironic that some of the things he did to make me feel good might just surprise you. But I knew they were relegated to this domain alone. If I wanted him to hold be in a fetal position while I cried my heart out, he would have obliged. Maybe out of obligation; maybe just because he knew the suffering was beyond reach now. Only his song could softly draw me out of it. I whinnied in acquiescence, in a mixture of pain and pleasure and undiluted recognition. His eyes were on mine. Subconsciously, and over a long period of time, I had been trained to avert my gaze, but it didn’t used to be that way. He slowly got me to fleetingly look up, then gaze, and maybe look. At least I was okay with him looking. That was no longer hard for me. I trusted his gaze like no other. I was his in this way alone. Afterwards his heart rate was fluttering while mine barely registered. The whole thing was only painful in that it was not hunger it was need. I needed it but I was a person that ignored my needs but we did not ignore each others needs. We chose other people who filled our appetites but not our needs.



et cetera