You straddle my lap facing me with your knees on the couch on both sides of me. You put your arms on each side of my head and we begin to kiss. Our tongues play off each other and gauge the intensity of our feelings. Occasionally there are times when you and I just relax and let the world pass us by without the usual scene trying to get us to somewhere in particular. There are moments when I feel bad for hurting you even though it gets me off and there are times when it’s too exhausting to top you for even another quarter hour. I want to spend the rest of our night in some relative peacefulness before we resolve to finish things. I really can’t fathom why you no longer want this between us. Why you don’t want any of this, really. I pull my jeans down a little and we lay out on the couch. You are on top when you impale yourself upon me. Your body is lit by the bedroom light, your skin a new shade in the partial darkness. When you arch your back your hair appears longer and. I wanted many things then, it took me years to get a few, but Glynnis wasn’t one of them. ‘My inspiration is coming over soon. Please stay and meet him.’ I looked away, as I didn’t want her to see my face. A gun? An axe? A castrating knife? Picture wire? My bare hands? The son of a bitch bastard, he’s going to fuck her. I want to kill him. Then, in that same fraction of a second, sanity returned, and I replied, ‘Of course, it’s so kind of you to ask me to stay, I don’t want to intrude—-.’ A few minutes later the front door opened (I could hear the bell and the murmured greeting to Mrs. Trondheim) and in strode a tall, heavy-set man, much older than I (and he could have killed me, rather than vice versa, so I subsided and played the eager sophomore, a role I was good at). ‘Oh Woodsy,’ She said. Gentle Christ our Saviour, I thought, Woodsy? They are joking, aren’t they? Apparently not. ‘Hi, Glyn my angel.’ I don’t remember the conversation, except it was short and inane. Woodsy had.
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