Sadistic Excess

‘Keep the light off.’  I say it with little inflection as you reach for the switch next to the door.  The cool, brisk air still clings to your body like a lover.  Music spills through the air, louder with each step we take back to the main room where a familiar set of leather chairs sit in a dark room.  What light there is comes from the distance, brought in by the curtainless windows, and the sound system which scrolls the music of the moment – haunting guitars chords that bleed into pained lyrics.

You turn to face me and my fingers busy themselves with your jacket.  I lean in, sliding it down your arms, all the while taking in the scent of your perfume, your shade of lipstick, the glossy shine of your raven hair.  One hand drops your jacket along the back of the chair, the other other slides around your waist to pull you closer.

I mutter your name softly, my lips brushing the cool skin of your temple.  You’ve leaned into me, your fingers curling into my shirt, your nose burying into my chest, finger crushing the dark fabric, as you take in my scent.  When you exhale, I can feel it, warm and dewy, on my skin.

‘Missed you.’  I say into your hair, my fingers reaching up to play with the strands that have long fascinated my fingers.  I coil one such strand around my index and watch as your head slowly tilts back.  I kiss your lips softly, lightly, as not to smudge the dark red lipstick you’re wearing with such precision.  Your nails dig lightly into my chest, then slide, under pressure of your fingers, around my neck.

I pull you up against me, my fingers cupping your ass so your eyes are level with mine.  You lean in this time and kiss me, your fingers tugging on my hair, the strands which have grown more gray since the last time I’d seen you.

‘Missed you…more.’  You murmur softly against my mouth.  We both smile briefly.  Tension is there, a stiffness, an unease that doesn’t abate quickly.  We have history, you and I, one that mirrors the ugly nature inside us both and yet equally reflects the beauty also present.  We stare at each other for a long moment, suspended in time, silent, but exchanging a look so pregnant in words only a miracle holds them back from our lips.

It goes on like this for a long time, the music changing, but never really altering the mood, the selection of noise complete in its reflection of me.  I allow you to see me, really see me.  The gray of my eyes not hidden by pride or subterfuge, ego or that fucking wall I can, and often do, erect…even with you.

You take the step needed to break the quiet that strains between us.  You make the first offer and sacrifice your safe hiding place that leaves you vulnerable to me.  ‘I love you, D.’  You say it with such sincerity, your gaze unbreaking, your fingers cupping my cheeks, playing in the soft hair at my neck.  ‘I love you D and I want to be with you.’

It’s complete.  In that moment I could say so many things, so many paths to take.  Do I wound?  Do I strike at you?  Do I humble you and feel that same dark satisfaction I take in debasing someone, especially you?  Do I?  Do I?

I am not so verbose in that moment.  I am without my words, without a thought process that even allows anything other than the truth, even if it can potentially hurt me to say it.  You’ve exposed yourself, you’ve taken the chance, and I can do nothing more than reflect what is inside me.

‘I love you too…. N.’  My voice breaks and we both smile.  That tension has ebbed, and the balm that soothes is like water after a drought, calming, cool, refreshing.