by Mike Whitney
(06/11/08)
"What are you thinking about?"
"Oh, just staring off and zoning out," he lied, because repeated bad experiences over decades with various people had finally hammered away his penchant for answering fully any question about himself, blurting truths better left moldering in the past. So he lied, and smiled, having also learned the best lies are simple, infrequent, and should always end with a smile into the eyes of the trusting inquirer.
In fact, he had been reliving what had been the best sex of his life. Thirty years ago, and never repeated with that two-year partner, in his mind the fecund moment took on sweaty, panting life once more. He remembered their sex smell, their loopy grins as he pushed through to the new place, and she had let him. Her deep sigh rang with an inflection entirely new and pleased. Bliss blocked out the street sounds completely. Transported, the small apartment bedroom was a magic carpet over the city, lights below and above.
When he lifted his face from her pillow, with strands of her wet hair sticking to his chin, they both smiled wordlessly. New, yes. This was more than a climax, thrashing and crying out to themselves as god and goddess. Neither had come, but both felt the change. She lifted him, arching her back again, and he simply fell into the new place. She laughed softly, her smile happy and excited. More, let's do more. Can we ride again, please, please please. Let's hold onto this, make it last. It is knowing the bar has been reset, and for that moment, it stops the dull pain, the stupid fucking pain, until tomorrow.
"Zoning out, huh? Well, from the look on your face, the zone is good tonight."
"Yes. Nice place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there."
"I'm going to read to the next chapter."
"That's it for me, love you, 'night. See you in the morning."
He rolled onto his side, turned off his reading light, and smiled into the darkness.
