The Night’s Desire

When fire burns between two lovers, it burns in both directions. It can flare up from a mere spark, a touch, a smile. It can ignite both bodies swiftly and rage in inferno; or it can kindle slowly, gently flickering as it licks the senses and numbs you to all other things. Yet regardless of its inception, once this fire catches aflame there is no match for its temptation. The lure of lust. The pinnacle of essence, the pure release that brings climax to a moment dripping in desire. This is what’s shared between two lovers, who love for love’s sake. Inhaling the smoke from each other’s soul, the fire burns into each other’s being, and inside the other they surrender themselves.

It only took a moment, but that was all the time my heart needed to betray my fickle mind. One moment to cross over from ambivalent confidence to deliberate intention. It happened as I laced my elbow around hers, facing each other slightly off-centered with drinks in hand, then knocking back our tequilas in synchronized fashion. She wore such a happy smile. More than happy. Care free. And up until then, she sure as hell had more poise than I. But walking in uncharted territory can only allow for so much certainty, before I had to rely on courage to take what I wanted. But that was fine by all accounts. By the time her and I caught each other’s gaze in a silent, arousing pause, the liquor had pulled a soft blanket over my judgement. A judgment that already weighed heavily on my shoulders, being pulled in opposite directions by imposed morals and animalistic appetite. Morals which have long lost their flavor, and an appetite which I wanted her to satisfy. It became apparent that I had come there that night for a reason, just as she most certainly invited me for reasons of her own. “Cheers” I said, and narrowed my broad gaze to tunnel vision aimed deep into her eyes, while wearing a steady smile of my own.

Kara said nothing, but kept her eyes equally locked into mine. Her smile grew. Not necessarily larger in size. Rather it received an injection of spirit. It was warm, a seductive warmth that pulled me in quietly, with a zeal that whispered sweet things even though she didn’t speak a word. A light puff of hair fell forward and covered half of her face. Just enough that her right eye was shadowed, but not fully veiled. Her appearance in a word, sex. Just goddamn sex. She couldn’t be more sexy if she tried. If she was even the slightest bit nervous, it didn’t show. Comfortable, yet composed. With such a smooth serenity to her posture, Kara was in control over every aspect of the scene. And if she wasn’t aware of this, she certainly fooled me. 

She said something, but I had no clue what she said. I could make out bits and pieces of sentences; a “happy for you” here, maybe a “you’ll do great” there, perhaps even a “I’ll miss you” in between. In all fairness, despite my best efforts, I could only half listen. The music was loud, the crowd even louder, and it even felt like small talk. It was as good of a conversation as you’d imagine two people having after taking tequila shots at a packed bar. As if it were obligatory. Part of the game we were playing with each other. The almost scripted flirting, that sometimes isn’t flirtful at all, to fill the gap between getting drunk and what mischief might possibly await once being drunk is achieved. 

Originally I had believed that my impromptu invitation for drinks was meant as a parting gift. A farewell. A means of congratulations from my now ex-boss, before I left to a new city for a new job and a new life. Kara had known me for the better part of the last four years; as a manager, a mentor, and a friend. She was older, perhaps by a decade if I had to guess; exactly how much older I never knew, and never cared enough to ask. Regardless, her true tenured age didn’t matter to Kara. Her wild energy could match that of anyone younger than herself, and she had a spirit that refused to be caged. Not to mention Kara had a body that left girls half her age jealous, with curves so deadly she’d always break necks where ever she walked by. And there, as a newly divorced mother whose vitality refused to slow down, age remained irrelevant to Kara. And if it wasn’t to her, it certainly wasn’t going to be relevant to me. Age was never something of significance to me anyways. It was never more than a number, not a true indication of the peaks and valleys of a person’s journey, much less a reflection of the contents of one’s character. Then again everyone seemed older than myself in my mind; wiser, stronger, more experienced in life’s ways. I had always been trapped in a false pretense that everyone else around me always knew what they were doing, and I was better off just following the herd. Following blindly, I might add. It had never occurred to me that others, especially those older than myself, might also be lost in youthful naïveté as well. Or perhaps they simply wished they could be lost again. 

So there we were. Her and I. Getting lost together. 

My prior, more innocent interpretation of Kara’s invitation, had packed it’s bag and vacated my mind. With our sights still locked on each other, we made up the two sole occupants of our own little world. Two liberated souls, breathing each other’s air, sharing strong liquors in the late after hours, surrounded by people dancing within their own separate little worlds. 

Then I noticed that her lips had stopped moving, and she was speaking through her eyes. She seemed to understand what I had been saying as well, even though I was also quiet. Time seemed to take a cue from us, as the tireless tick-tock of my watch became still, paused in our sensual silence. I couldn’t tell who stepped forward first, or if gravity effortlessly pulled us nearer, but suddenly there was less space between us. At first neither of us were aware that we grew closer. And then closer. Then even closer. Before I knew it we were breathing each other in. Slowly. Softly. Closer. Her smooth skin radiated. My lips parted, with a will of their own, wet with anticipation. Closer. Our eyes kept whispering to each other. Closer. A smile. Her head tilted ever so slightly to the side, a smile that said everything that needed to be said.

I leaned forward the final stretch, pulled her into me, and kissed her. A hot rush pulsed through my veins. In an instant I was saturated with the flavor of her lips. So sweet, I could suck on them forever. That kiss was fierce, and deep, and immediately I wanted another. And then another. And another. So I stole another, and another, and then another until we weren’t even breaking to breathe. Perhaps she gave them to me willingly, but in that moment I didn’t care to know the difference. Had we been in a different space and time; I wouldn’t have had the strength for self-restraint. Her lips told me I could release, uncage my animal and wrestle to tame hers. 

And in that moment, I loved her. But it was a new shade of love. Not the love that comes with roses on Valentine’s Day, or holding hands walking through a park, or growing old besides someone. It was freedom. The love that comes with freedom. Raw, unadulterated, pure liberation. The rush of stepping out from a cage, naked in sunlight. Heart pounding from breaking the rules, and the pleasure of learning how some rules are meant to be broken. Somehow, some way, her kiss was a key that opened my cage, leaving me naked there in that bar, and I wanted to every bit of it. I wanted to own her. No. It wasn’t that simple. I wanted something more than that.

I wanted her to own me. In every sense of the word. To give in, to succumb to her hunger and her desire. For her to have her way with me. Surrender to temptation, and drown in lust. I swam deep in the pools of her eyes, searching for her to feel the same. I wanted to see her wanting to be owned, just as I did. I wanted to be two lovers, equal, giving ourselves to the other, while taking the other for ourselves all the same. I wanted to burn on fire. 

As if I had overdosed, with our lips still fused together like hot irons, my senses became dulled to all other things. We were all over each other, and the side-effects had taken control. These were, but not limited to; forgetfulness of being in public, neglect of tracking time, and mutual physical groping. Our lips only separated to take each other in. I cusped one side of her neck with my hand and licked the other. She returned the favor by grabbing my hip and biting my ear, which sent electric tingles through every tip of my body. With each taste, my appetite only grew stronger. When I kissed her lips, I wanted to then kiss her neck. When I kissed her neck, I then wanted to kiss her breasts. Then I’d want to kiss her legs. Then I wanted to feel her back beneath her shirt. Then I wanted to lift her and hold her against a wall. Then I wanted to be far away from that bar, just us alone together, somewhere else. I wanted her to suck my innocence dry while I licked her spirit clean. 

When we seemed to reach the pinnacle of our heat, she broke away for a much needed breath of air. 

“Damn,” she said. She seemed besides herself, not able to think of more to say. But that was fine for me. I felt the same.

“Me too,” I smirked back. I knew there wasn’t much need to elaborate. She understood what I meant. We remained there silently for either a few seconds, or an entire lifetime, it all seemed the same in the moment. Still loosely in each other’s embrace, still showering each other with our gaze. 

Finally speaking up, Kara leaned forward to speak directly in my ear, “I just need to find the friends I came with. I’ll just be a minute or so.”

“Of course,” I replied, “tell them I said hi.” I had in fact forgotten completely she did not come alone to this bar, but wasn’t in the mood to meet them myself so I was content that she hadn’t asked me to come with. 

Kara let out a light chuckle, “don’t go far stud.” She gave me a warm pinch on my waist, and winked before she turned to dive into the crowd in search of her friends. I immediately took the brief reprieve to get another drink. I wasn’t far from the bar, and luckily I found a small nook of space where I could lean in peace and relatively undisturbed. I allowed my attention to float over the crowd at large. I didn’t worry that she wouldn’t return. My gut told me she wanted more too. That possibly this heated episode was not all there was to this night. 

My mind began to drift, lost in scenes unfolding before me. In the most interesting ways, past present and future seemed to collide, all in pocketed highlight reels, all for me to observe. A group of young friends, very possibly getting drinks for the very first time legally, judging by their skittish excitement at ordering their poorly mixed tequila sodas. Then there was a few older couples, who convinced themselves they were no where near “too old” to come to a club-like bar such as this, but also so obviously not enjoying themselves between the barring thud of too-loud speakers and similarly poorly mixed Old Fashions. Then there was myself, feeling blissfully lost in a moment and not entirely sure what I was doing anymore.

“Honey, are you ready to order?” the solo bartender had to yell to be heard over the music. Jolted from my stupor, I had nearly forgotten that I was still waiting to be served. 

“I’m so sorry,” I politely yelled back, “do you have Yuengling?”

“Sorry sweetie, we don’t”

“Ah that’s alright. I’m not very picky anyway. How about Stella?”

“That we do have. It’ll be six dollars and fifty cents,” the bartender replied, and walked away before I could say anything back. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to conclude that she was clearly overwhelmed, with far too many drunk customers waiting on her than she could possibly serve. Although no one complained, and I doubt she would have cared if they did. And even so, with tightly fitted clothes so skimpy they barely qualified as clothes at all, she was all but guaranteed to get more than her fair share in tips; even if most of them came from men who probably would stumble over themselves to get her attention, or those who wrote their numbers on their receipts with a hopeful “text me” accompanied by a wink face. As she began to walk back my way with beer in hand, I couldn’t help but wonder how many pick-up lines she had endured in any given night, and if any of them ever worked. And if they did, what on God’s green Earth did those clever lines say?

Taking a sip and being grateful that the beer was in fact cold, I returned from my epiphany, and ventured through the crowds again to find Kara on the outskirt of her circle of friends. Without asking I reached for her hand, but instead gave a light but intentional squeeze just below the cheek of her ass. This got her attention, which was half of my intention. I put my hand back on her behind, and this time just palmed her curve, which was the other half. That wonderful carefree smile had gone nowhere. She led me a few steps away where we could dance more intimately, which we did without interruption for longer than I can remember. Full to the brim with kissing, licking, nibbling, biting, panting, and more kissing; the sensation of those moments still remains stained on me. 

Then suddenly, the room was flooded in mild light. Closing hour had come. The music hadn’t fully died, but the volume was certainly dimmed. As if we were slapped sober, the tone of our voices changed now that we could actually hear each other. 

“This is fun,” she said while squinting her eyes. She may have been squinting from the light, or perhaps that she had to force herself out of this haze too suddenly. Like having the blinds pulled instantly while in a deep sleep. The body wakes in a flash, but it takes a moment for your conscious to catch up. 

“Yeah,” I panted “damn. I’m certainly enjoying myself.” I cocked back a grin, and took her hand in mine. We met eyes, but there wasn’t much we needed to say. 

“Listen,” she pulled me closer so that I would be able to hear her whisper, “now that certain things with my split are finalized, I have a few things to sort out. But soon, they will be. When that happens we should get a drink again.” Without giving me any room to respond she pulled me all the way and kissed me again. This one was deep again, but a clean kiss. An unspoken goodbye. 

As she turned to find her friends once more and leave, I sighed. There wasn’t more to say, and I knew it. And that was it. There was nothing left for me but to stuff my hands halfway into my pockets, and shuffle my way towards the doors with the rest of the crowd.

Walking out I looked back at the bar entrance, and before I could help it I laughed. The sign over the entrance read: Laundry Mat; which I thought was ironic. I had never wanted less to do with being clean. I started to make my way around the corner to the block where my car was parked, talking to myself quietly in my head. 

Maybe she wanted the same thing. Maybe I was able to really read it off her. Or maybe I’m playing this all up in my head, and it was no more than a drunk-kiss kind of night. Maybe she wanted me. Maybe she wanted to ignite our skins and burn together. Naked and aflame. Maybe she was just lost, a weary soul tired from the choices she was forced between, yearning for a breath of fresh air. Maybe she just wanted to be uncaged, to break free of the shackles that held her down, to get caught up in passion and bliss and all that comes with it. Or maybe she felt none of those things. Maybe she just felt the weight of a drunken haze pulled over her eyes, and didn’t care enough to contemplate such emotional considerations. Maybe it was a distraction, and i was simply distracting enough to satisfy her for the moment. But I didn’t care. All I cared about was what I wanted. I felt selfish. And I wanted to be used. For her to use me. I wanted to let go of any reins I may have been holding on to, and let someone have their way with me. Not a romance filled with the aroma of budded roses, but a connection drenched in desire between two naked souls that lit each other on fire. I wanted her, and for her to want me.

But sometimes moments don’t really stand still, and memories don’t come to be remembered. Sometimes it really is nothing more than a drunk kiss at a bar. Sometimes we can only hope our thoughts, intentions, desires, are mirrored in the other. But that’s all they are; thoughts, intentions, and desires. And sometimes, that’s perfectly okay. Not every spark ignites to flame. Not every kiss burns into sex. Not every sex blossoms into lovers. And not every romance writes a true love story.

Arriving at my car, I felt suddenly at peace. Because what I knew was enough. Right then, I was all I was meant to be, and all I was meant to be for her. And so was she. I was stained by her taste and that was enough for me. 

I opened the door and sat down. Closing it behind me, I placed both my palms on the wheel slowly curled my fingers around. Turning the keys, I rolled down all four windows. There was a brisk chill in the summer evening’s air, and I stopped thinking for a moment and felt the coolness blanket over me. 

Tonight was a good night, and that’s enough, I thought to myself. Tonight was a good night…