the twenty-sixth night:
tonight, i shook a man's hand and it made my knees weak. his hand completely engulfed mine. it was like holding an adult's hand to cross the street when i was 6 years old.
he was a friend of a good friend of mine whom i hadn't seen for over a year and a half. they called that they were in town for a few hours and could they come over.
while we sat in the living room catching up on old times, i couldn't keep my hands still. i could still feel his fingers pressed into my palm, my hand stretching to hold his.
he was exceptionally handsome in a completely ordinary way. short brown hair, naturally messy, dark brown eyes, light skin, full mouth. he had beautiful imperfect teeth that gave his mouth a kind of twisted up pout, flawed, pretty like cracked eggshells or torn leaves.
when he knelt down to look at my roommate's cds the back of his pants buckled and his shirt came up revealing light freckles across the small of his back. i imagined kneeling next to him and kissing him there, dragging my mouth along the line of his pants, and then up his spine. slipping my hands into his button up cotton shirt, pressing my chest against his back as i bit his ears.
i smiled and caught my breath as he involuntarily closed his eyes and thrusted his hips while we listened to music, his fingers tapping his hipbones in time with the beat.
i kept getting up and walking around, circling the room like a cat, trying to find a comfortable position in the gathering of men.
i wasn't dressed right, i had on an old frayed longsleeve tshirt that is covered in pant, i was wearing pjamma pants that fall down off my hips and drag under my feet when i walk. my hair was a mess of curls falling in my face and down to my shoulders, my glasses are dirty and i kept cleaning them nervously, squinting at him and smiling when he caught me half-blind.
he asked me questions and looked me straight in the eyes as i answered. if i looked away he watched my mouth. i tried always to keep his hands in view. i imagined his smooth palm on my forehead as he pushed my head back to kiss and lick my throat, i imagined his grip behind my knee as he pulled my leg around his waist.
while i listened to him talk i imagined anonymously sending him letters, seducing him with words.
i imagined him sleeping with the letters clutched in his ordinary hands, pushed under his pillow and laying in piles next his bed.
when they left he leaned in and said in a soft voice, "thank you for your hospitality" while he took my hand in his once more.
he looked directly in my eyes as he let my fingers reach and caress his wrist and his thumb resting on the back of mine. as we let go of each other we drew lines down the length of each other's palms.
i have already written my first letter to him.
instead of signing my name i have traced my hand and written the words inside.
tonight, i shook a man's hand and it made my knees weak. his hand completely engulfed mine. it was like holding an adult's hand to cross the street when i was 6 years old.
he was a friend of a good friend of mine whom i hadn't seen for over a year and a half. they called that they were in town for a few hours and could they come over.
while we sat in the living room catching up on old times, i couldn't keep my hands still. i could still feel his fingers pressed into my palm, my hand stretching to hold his.
he was exceptionally handsome in a completely ordinary way. short brown hair, naturally messy, dark brown eyes, light skin, full mouth. he had beautiful imperfect teeth that gave his mouth a kind of twisted up pout, flawed, pretty like cracked eggshells or torn leaves.
when he knelt down to look at my roommate's cds the back of his pants buckled and his shirt came up revealing light freckles across the small of his back. i imagined kneeling next to him and kissing him there, dragging my mouth along the line of his pants, and then up his spine. slipping my hands into his button up cotton shirt, pressing my chest against his back as i bit his ears.
i smiled and caught my breath as he involuntarily closed his eyes and thrusted his hips while we listened to music, his fingers tapping his hipbones in time with the beat.
i kept getting up and walking around, circling the room like a cat, trying to find a comfortable position in the gathering of men.
i wasn't dressed right, i had on an old frayed longsleeve tshirt that is covered in pant, i was wearing pjamma pants that fall down off my hips and drag under my feet when i walk. my hair was a mess of curls falling in my face and down to my shoulders, my glasses are dirty and i kept cleaning them nervously, squinting at him and smiling when he caught me half-blind.
he asked me questions and looked me straight in the eyes as i answered. if i looked away he watched my mouth. i tried always to keep his hands in view. i imagined his smooth palm on my forehead as he pushed my head back to kiss and lick my throat, i imagined his grip behind my knee as he pulled my leg around his waist.
while i listened to him talk i imagined anonymously sending him letters, seducing him with words.
i imagined him sleeping with the letters clutched in his ordinary hands, pushed under his pillow and laying in piles next his bed.
when they left he leaned in and said in a soft voice, "thank you for your hospitality" while he took my hand in his once more.
he looked directly in my eyes as he let my fingers reach and caress his wrist and his thumb resting on the back of mine. as we let go of each other we drew lines down the length of each other's palms.
i have already written my first letter to him.
instead of signing my name i have traced my hand and written the words inside.
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I promise, I won't make a peep...