Sunday, December 16, 2007


Originally uploaded by lorenzodom

She said I snore.
“But it is a good snore,” she said.

We laughed almost all night long. At least, until she had to leave; then it wasn’t funny anymore. Loneliness is almost never funny. At least, not alone it ain’t.

I cooked dinner, we drank, we smoked, we ate; and little by little, sip by sip, morsel through morsel, we were consumed by desire.

An hour into sitting at the table, our knees brushed. Actually, it was her knee to the inside of my thigh.

I sighed—an exhale that suddenly pushed the gates open into overflow, a rush of knowing where this was going, a lush full of pent-up yearning, a longing, the demon of lust wiling to overcome me.

I got up to kiss her nape. “I like your new haircut, it allows me to place my lips here...” I told her.

I placed my lips there.

She closed her eyes, her head falling back, ever so slightly. She made the most precious sound that I’ve ever heard come from her lips.

“We don’t have to go out tonight, you know,” I nudged, suggesting the suggestive.

“I’d much rather be here, with you, alone. I really don’t want to gallivant about town, giving face-time to friends,” if only because we must face our friends from time to time, if we care to keep them.

We stepped out of the dining room and into my room.

Then she made the most exquisite sounds I have ever heard come from any woman’s lips.

I have never laughed so much with anyone in bed.

She had to leave in the middle of the storm; snow pattered violently against my window, the wind howled in pain. I asked her to send me a message when she had arrived home, safely.

“Goodnight,” she wrote.

I shut my eyes.

She said I snore.
“But it is a good snore,” she said.

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