Much later Rebecca and I were sitting on one of the couches and
she had her legs crossed at the knees and one dirty foot swinging and
her night-gown showing below the hem of her black lace dress. She was
the last kid there. She raised her arms and she pulled her black hair
back behind her head and did something deft back there the way girls do
with their hair so that it stays the way they fix it without any visible
reason to and despite the law of gravity. Maybe I was a little drunk by
then, maybe we both were. Also the dancing had been warm and close. I
was smoking a cigarette and she took it out of my fingers and drew on
it, one puff, and blew out the smoke without inhaling and put the
cigarette back in my fingers. I saw now she was wearing mascara on her
eyelashes and eyelids and had on that communal red lipstick, paled
somewhat since its application, and was glancing at me sideways with her
foot swinging, and those eyes dark as black grapes, and her white neck
draped in that torn shawl of dusty pink -- I had no warning or
preparation from one moment to the next, I was swimming in a realm of
intimacy, as if I had just met her, or as if I had just lost her, but
surely as if I had never roof-fucked her. My mouth went dry she was so
incredibly childishly beautiful. Until this moment I had been the party
giver and big boss of the evening, dispensing his largesse and granting
his favors. All those dances--oh I knew everyone knew I favored her on
my randy forays up the fire escape, but it was athletics, I paid her,
for chrissake, I must have been staring at her because she turned away
and lowered her eyes, her foot going madly--all those dances I had
danced with her and only her were the exacting ceremonies of possession.
And this ancient witch child understood before I did that everything
was now up in the heart, as if my rise in the world had lifted us to an
immensity of consequence, which we were now allowed to see, like a
distance ahead of us, like a horizon. They must all have understood,
every fucking kid there, while I thought what I had been feeling was
only a sweetly mellow good time.
So when
everyone else had gone we lay for the first time together without any
clothes on that same couch, everyone else asleep, even Garbage in some
inner bin of his privacy. We lay in the dark cellar of dust and ash, and
I was passive and on my back and Rebecca lay on top of me and cleaved
herself on me letting herself down with a long intake of her breath
which I felt as a cool flute of air on my neck, and slowly awkwardly she
learned her rhythm upon me as I was patient to allow her to do. My
hands were on her back for a while and then on her buttocks, I followed
the soft down with my fingers, I knew it was as black as her hair, it
went from the bottom of her spine down into the crack between her ass,
and then I put my finger on her small ring of an asshole and as she
raised her hips I lost it in the clamp of her hard buttocks. Her hair
fell forward as she raised herself and it brushed my face, and when she
lowered herself it fell around my ears, and I kissed her cheeks as she
rested and I felt her lips on my neck and her hard little nipples
against my chest and her wet thighs on my thighs, and then I didn't
remember when it started she was making little discoveries which she
voiced in private almost soundless whimperings in my ear and then she
moved into some arrhythmic panic and went stiff and I felt around my
cock the grasp of her inner musculature and when I reached down with my
finger and touched the asshole it clamped around my fingertip and
released and contracted and released in the same rhythm as her interior
self was squeezing and unsqueezing my cock and I couldn't stand it
anymore I arched myself into her and pulled back, raising myself and
lowering myself with her dead bodyweight as vehemently as if I were on
top, pretty soon going so fast she was being bounced on my chest and
thighs with little grunts until she found my rhythm and went stuttering
and imperfectly and finally workingly, smoothly against it, meeting me
when I was to be met, leaving me when I was leaving to be left, and that
was so unendurably exquisite I shot into her and held her down against
me with my hands while I came pulsing up into her milkingly lovely
little being as far as I could go. And she held her arms around me to
get me through that, and then there was peace between us, and we lay as
we were with such great trust as to require no words or kisses, but only
the gentlest, slowest and most coordinate drift into sleep.
Posted here for discussion purposes, in this essay.
No comments:
Post a Comment