I want your mish mash kiss attack.

“Your ever so confusing.” She thought as she watched him eye her carelessly, not unlike one half reads a diner menu. She had been the dinner earlier. He had picked her up again that morning pretending to carry her across “the threshold” before throwing her back on the bed. She wondered what the point was to any of it. She needed more than jokes and good times. No matter. It would all be over soon anyway, just as watercolor is so transparent and messy, so was he.

“Your doing it again.” His voice broke the silence of her daydream. “Doing what….?” feigning attentiveness once again.

“You know.” … a wry smile spread across his square jaw.

Dammit. Damn his handsomeness, damn his wit, this could go on forever and she’d gladly let it, biting her lip all the while. It was dark, the room dim but his face lit up every time he inhaled the blue grey smoke into his lungs from the black clove cigarette. She had met him on the boardwalk…

“What are you thinking about?” his voice prodding the dark once more, ripping her thoughts open at the seams. Funny, she never noticed how the stars resembled hole punches in the sky…like black construction paper at the mercy of a kindergartner in art class who took too much liberty in destruction.


He laughed, smoke billowing out of his nostrils like some chinese parade dragon.

“Your funny…. what are you really thinking about??” She hesitated, to tell him the truth would just set everything back to the beginning, and an awkward silence would ensue. She stalled for time with a kiss. On that summer day of what seemed like so long ago…she remembered the ocean, how the air carried bits of salt and sand..and the taste of it on her lips, how an odd flavor was created between her breath and his in between stolen glances behind dark sunglasses…. When it was still a thing of importance to him to tell her how pretty she was in her dress…. These are the guts that love is made of, the sparks that start the fire…the hard part is making these moments last for all time. Can they? Except in photographs and embellished memories that over time become warped into semi-accurate pictures. Her Mother always told her to not rely on anyone.. yet here she was fighting her stubborn will hopelessly to not get weak in the knees, to not be…weak. Too late.

Strewn about the room was a mess of what she used to be wearing… a heel there.. somewhere in this reckless abandon her car keys…before she could think any further his arm pulled her closer, tight, strong. She enjoyed this highly as sometimes it was nice to feel protected, and no matter, she liked to play rough.

“You still haven’t told me kitten.” he nibbled on her lower lip as she struggled to get out a muffled “What?”

“Oh ya… nothing, who needs talk when we’ve got a bed and a bottle of champagne chilling?” He had let go of her lip and rested her body against his as he arched his head back and looked up at her with those big eyes, oh those eyes ! “Whatever you want beautiful.”

*sigh* How could she tell him now, it would have to wait, she wanted this to last. She wanted to stay in this slow motion day dream like swimming underwater. Even if she ran out of breath. For him, it’d be worth it.

(I’m leaving the rest up to your imagination dear reader, for isn’t it half the fun to fill in the blanks yourself? If anyone wants a part 2 I will oblige but until then.. I think audience participation is fun, don’t you?)

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