Friday, 20 April 2012

Short Cut

(C)Nic Wise

They stood grinning at each other in the sixty watt halflight in Ali’s bare holiday-let flat – truth be told it wasn’t even hers, she’d ‘borrowed’ it for the week from a friend who was away up country, so that she, Ali, could have a break from the ancient caravan she had holed up in for the past three months. The smell of damp was less here, but it still pervaded the room, slowly turning the wood soft and the furniture black and musty.

 She reached up to Terry’s head and pulled his mouth down to hers – they’d both drunk until the pub shut, talking, listening and fixing all those common points in their lives that proved their compatibility to each other and to themselves – places they’d been to, bands they’d seen, tastes in food, all the usual trivia and surface gloss that people pick up and toss about as reference points. They even discovered that they'd been on the same demo once, about a year and a half ago, a coincidence that they could only have shared with about two hundred thousand other people but which seemed to be quite unique to them right now.

 Ali’s tongue flickered over Terry’s lips and he saw her eyes light up with something more than just normal excitement. He slid his hands across the rough cotton of her jacket, up to her neck and pushed his fingers through the short hair on the nape of her neck, she threw back her head, eyes closed and mouth so slightly parted.

 Encouraged, he pulled her close and kissed her deeply again, her eyes opening and staring at him so forthrightly that he was in no doubt, even at this point, what was going to happen. He felt his fragility fall away from him along with the last traces of any questions and he pushed her gently but with unfamiliar assertiveness up against the bare magnolia wall, still running his hand through her hair, holding her submissive head, part protecting, part owning. Ali came out of her trance and pulled him closer still, their hip bones clashing through the denim. She reached down for his belt and fumbled with the clasp before pushing the palm of her hand against front of his jeans, making him gasp. Simultaneously Terry pulled open her jacket, feeling her body through the thin material that separated them, just.

 Ali drew back, Terry worried that he’d moved too fast, too soon. But she slipped off her jeans and presented herself to Terry with a smile exaggerated by her swollen lips and wide blazing eyes. He pushed her back against the wall, tore down his own jeans and let her push herself against him until he could no longer think of anything but wanting to have her.

 Looking back Terry wondered how much of it had been the drink, how much had been pure lust, and how much of it had been that indefinable-something-else which separated this from any other experience he’d had up until that point in his life. The distant wash and rumble of the surf soundtracked the night; the dust from the beach made the curtainless windows almost opaque, but still they were both aware that anyone could have glanced up to see them coupled furiously against the dirty paintwork and neither of them cared, in fact quite the opposite. The quietness of earlier in the evening left them as they gasped and sucked in great draughts of air along with the sweetness of each other’s bodies, scent and sweat. Ali half sobbed, loudly and unrestrainedly as she felt her body being taken over by the sheer force of what was happening, she pushed and pulled Terry into her and away again, feeling every single movement with a new sensitivity. Terry told her everything that he wanted to do with her, for her, to her and she replied in single syllables between otherwordly not quite words, making it clear that she wanted him to do them all and that she could still promise more in return.

 Later in the bed of crumpled sheets and ragged Indian throws they lay across each other in silence, lit by the three quarters full moon which dragged the tide inwards whilst they slept. For a brief time all was still, a tableau pieced together from the poorest of materials with their naked bodies strewn artfully across the centre of the scene like the exhausted, unwrapped torsos in some Renaissance vision of the afterlife.

They woke together frequently and continued their explorations in the way that only the newly found or long separated lovers will.

No comments:

Post a Comment