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The heat inside the bus is unbearable. Outside it, the evening is unbearably hot and humid. Inside, with people packed as sardines, it is twice as unbearable, not to mention the smell of sweat. And, even though the sun is diving under the horizon, there is no sign of the cool evening breeze coming through the open windows. Earplugs in my ears playing boring pop from the radio. The sun keeps descending. And my stop is coming closer.
The bus finally gets to my stop. The breaks hiss as I try to make my way through the crowd of commuters. Three steps from the door, I stumble on a teen girl. She turns towards me irritated, her eyes a beautiful ice blue, sparking with intelligence. They remind me of Laura's. I apologise to her and she replies with a tight lipped smile. Losing no time, I jump out of the bus.
It is near dusk. Only a hundreds meters to home. I walk slowly. There is no need to hurry. No need to get there before dark. My pace at a leisure, I could but enjoy the view. Not much to see actually, just a line of old apartment blocks obscuring the sunset. Not like my old hood, where I and Laura lived.
keys in hand, I open the main door. My apartment is on the second floor, so I seldom use the elevator; it barely works anyway. A good three minutes later I stand in my hallway, the front door locked behind me. Some mail flutters under my feet. Must be another take-away catalogue. The light is off and the blinds are shut, so I can't see what exactly it is. I can always turn the lights on, but I don't want to. Instead, I walk to the bedroom.
She stands by the window, waiting for me.
The blind is shut. The dying light of day doesn't lighten the room. It only emphasises the darkness inside. It illuminates her silhouette, as she turns towards me.
“You are back” she says, a smile somewhere beneath the darkness hiding her mouth.
“Yes. You are early,” I reply.
“I know.” Her eyes, ice blue gone grey by the lack of light, stare at me. “Why don't you go take a shower?”
I do. I enter the bathroom, strip of my sweaty clothes and pile them on the washing machine. Then I step in the shower and rinse myself in lukewarm water. It relaxes me. Washes away all of the boring, mundane stuff the day cluttered on me. I exit the shower after five minutes.
The bathroom is hot and humid. The steam is almost visible, the mirror dripping water. I just want out. It is like a sauna in here. New sweat runs from my pores, replacing the one washed away moments ago. I dry myself with a towel. Then I tie it around my waist and exit the bathroom.
Outside the darkness is thick. A single ray of light would slash it like a knife. The sun must have set by now. I stumble through the hallway to the bedroom. It is dark but for a faint light coming through the window. Must be the street light outside. Not that I care nor notice. My attention goes directly to the form sprawled on my bed, strips of light highlighting the curves of her exquisite bosom.
“Took a while in there,” she told me.
“Uh-ha,” I uttered.
“Come on,” she replied, waving at me with her beautiful sleek hand, her long fingers grabbing the air in front of me.
I step forward, letting the towel fall.
She raises herself on her elbow and waves me on. I get on the bed, my manhood is erect, ready for the task.
She knows it, I know she does, but chooses to ignore it. Instead, she leans towards me and kisses me softly on my lips, then down my neck in a quick successions of tonguing and nipping me with her lips.
I return the kisses, as my hands caress her smooth skin, first her arms, then her shoulders and finally her breasts. Her hands go straight on target, darting towards my erect penis and gently caress me. My hands go further down, across her flat belly and down between her legs. She is wet and ready.
I caress her some more, but she prefers not to waste any time. Her hands push mine away, then she raises her body and sits on my lap, her hands guiding me inside her. I moan as I get inside her and, beneath the sound of my moan, I can hear hers. Bodies caressing one another, then slamming, breaths mingling, leading us to a climax.
Afterwards, both spent, she lies on my body, her silken dark hair on my chest. I stare at the darkness above, caressing her mane. In the brink of sleep, I move my hand to the switch, trying to turn on the light. Her hand darts forward, clutching mine in a firm grip.
“No!” she commands “No lights! Not until I tell you to.”
She releases her grip on my hand, but the grip inside remains. I go to sleep, but I can still feel it smothering me.
In the morning, I wake up with her scent all over me. She is gone, vaporised with the first light of day, as she does all the time.
It is going to be another long day till nightfall.
“So,” Katya says, “are you a 'Haven' frequent?”
“I sometimes go there to have a drink,” I tell her. The last thing one expects to be asked while making some photocopies is the office intern asking him about his pub-going habits out of the blue. “It is really close to where I live,” I add.
“Saw you there last Saturday,” she says, smiles and tosses her hair just a little. “I sometimes go there myself too.”
“Haven't seen you there,” I say, looking for an excuse to avoid her. She is known to be the office's social butterfly, constantly on the move, eager to be friends with everybody. And, if there is any merit to the rumours, eager to get in the sack with everybody. I don't care much about it. She is the type of woman that has exaggerated facial features, but somehow they match and make the end result attractive. So it is hard for me to get interested in her.
“I often go there,” she says, “I really like the air of the place”. She smiles slyly, teeth long, stained with coffee and nicotine. She makes all the moves, that's for sure, so her next phrase comes as little surprise. “Provided, I have good company.”
My eyes turn to the copier. It is still working, churning out the copies I need. If only they were done already... Then I could leave and escape her clumsy flirting.
That were my thoughts, until my eyes go to her waist. She has a nice body, that's for sure, but today, seeing her dressed in tight fitting jeans and gently tilting her hips, I could not but notice how beautiful her waist is, hips wide and buttocks round and firm. Just... perfect. That revelation made me see her in a new light.
“We could go there some time,” I told her. “If you are in the need of company.”
“Good company is hard to find,” she winks, “how about tonight?”
“Sure,” I answer. “After work is fine?”
“Cool by me,” she says.
“Listen,” I tell her, “I'll finish work a bit late. Why not go there by yourself and I'll meet you when I'm done?”
Beside me, the copier churns out the last of the photocopies. I pick them up and turn to leave.
“See you later,” I tell her. “Oh, and let's keep it a little private,” I add.
She winks at me. She will.
“You know,” she tells me, “they told me you were in a relationship.” She speaks loud, as the owner had the brilliant idea to play a list of hard rock classics and turn up the volume to boot.
“Used to be,” I mutter, not sure if she heard me. “Me and Laura broke up some five months ago.”
“Well, when I first met her I thought she was the perfect girl.” I stop and sip my beer, knowing full well that a long explanation lies ahead. “Then we went out for half a year and I kept thinking she was miss perfect. Then we moved together and-”
“She wasn't perfect any more?”
“No, she was not,” I concur, “she was all but perfect.”
“We all are,” says Katya, leaving aside her flirty way. She sips some of her vodka while staring vacantly at the table.
“Well,” I go on, “we stayed together for two years and finally things went to a head. That's when the break-up came.”
“Sounds like a real heartbreak,” she says. “Still thinking of her?”
“To be frank, yes, I do. It's normal I guess, two and a half years can't be just flushed away.”
“Not even ten months go down the drain that easily,” she comments. There is a story somewhere behind that phrase, but I am sure I don't want to know it.
“Yes,” I tell her, “you know, some things about her were... perfect. It's kind of weird.”
“No, I can relate,” she smiles. “What was so... perfect about her?”
“Well, her eyes. They were magnificent. Hazel blue and sparkling. Liked her cheekbones too. High and haughty. It was her grandmother's Russian blood, she used to say. Her nose too...”
“And what else?” she baits for the answer.
“The sex actually. It's sort of embarrassing, but I really liked the way she knew what she wanted and knew how to ask for it.”
“I see.” Her smug expression tells me she thinks she knows why I asked her out. I leave her at it and take another sip of beer.
“Gotta freshen up,” she tells me and leaves for the ladies room. I can but admire the sway of her hips as she goes there. Definitely, I can't wait till we get to my house.
She is back after a while. I have drunk half my pint, she has sipped a little of her drink.
“You were saying?” she says, trying to break the ice.
“This and that,” I reply, “How was your day at work?”
“Oh! Damn step!” she growls, as I help her climb the stairs.
“Just a couple more and we are there,” I encourage her.
“You sneaky bastard,” she slurs, “getting me drunk to put me in bed.”
“It is not me,” I reply, “you just can't take your drinking. My house is right by the pub, remember? And I'll sleep to the couch if you want me to.”
“I don't want to get you out of your bed,” she says, leaning on me, her muzzle close to my face, her breath reeking of alcohol.
We finally get to the door. I try to unlock the door, while Katya rubs herself on me. I manage to open the door after two tries. The darkness behind it yawns at us, ready to swallow us.
“Here we are,” I tell her and support her, as she stumbles inside. “What the hell was in that drink?” she wonders. She doesn't need to know.
“Come on,” I tell her, “The bedroom is the second door.”
“It's dark in here, turn on the light!” she demands.
“I like it in the dark,” I reply. Not true, but lets not dwell on that.
After some more stumbling and carrying, we reach the bedroom. I gently lay her on the bed.
“Did you lay your ex here too?” she asks me, grabbing at me and trying to pull me too bed.
“Just once,” I say. “We used to live in another place.”
“Haven't seen her since?” she asks.
“No. And probably won't.”
“Good,” she moans. “Now come to bed!”
“I'll take a shower,” I tell her and leave the room. I can hear her trying to remove her clothes, making lots of noise with the effort.
I stand in the hallway, by the door. She drunkenly fumbles with her clothes some more. I wait.
I know the drill. First, I feel her presence in the room. She looms there, a shade, then a wisp and then in the flesh. I can picture her lurking over the bed, while Katya tries to remove her tight jeans. Then I hear a muffled cry and the sounds of a short struggle. And finally quiet.
I enter the room. She stands straight, defiant. Her figure defined by the faint street light. Katya is nowhere to be seen. No surprise after all. All of them are out of sight, after she is done with them.
She gets close to me and starts unbuttoning my shirt. My hand darts forward, caressing her brand new hips, moving further to the buttocks I was lusting after all day. A jolt of electricity runs through my body.
“Let me turn on the lights” I plead at her.
“No!” she commands. “We have a deal. No lights. No lights until you get me a beautiful smile. Then I will the perfect woman for you. Ready to be seen.”
She is right. I keep caressing her, standing in the dark.
This is the price for perfection.
Edited by Nihilio, 02 Ιούνιος 2009 - 23:26.