The sex they have after this is
unannounced, its root in neither habitual behaviour nor love nor simple
physical decree, though it is upon some prescript that it occurs, whether they
recognise this or no.
Skunk: Do you think that’s the, I mean,
what compares to an abortion for, in terms of of fear or worry or the the...
ache1 (lying on her side atop
the bedclothes): Wellll, I was
Skunk: What I mean is, was
that the worst thing you’ve been
through?
She forms a tiny o shape with unpainted
lips and blows the breath from herself.
ache1: When I was pretty
young my dad and I were riding the subway and we, I remember there was some
delay or something, and then our ahm
clearing her throat a little
ache1: our train comes in and
whatever, but when we were in the tunnels I thought I could smell, there was a
definite smell of smoke, and and and actual fire smoke not just from
cigarettes or anything, and I was, you know that thing when you’re in a plane
and if you think there’s a problem you just ah, you check the hostesses and if they don’t, if they’re calm then, chances are
everything’s, well, I know you won’t
Skunk (smiling): Yeah yeah, mmhm.
ache1: So. Oh no! But the
thing with this was that, there were other people who’d noticed it, and there,
you could really feel it in the ahm, in the
rolling her hands in the air
ache1: in the atmosphere in
the coach, and then the, when we came to the next station, there was nobody there, it looked like the whole place had
been evacuated, and I was really, I had this ah, and the train didn’t stop
either, that was the thing, it slowed
way way down and crawled through this empty station, and the platforms all, you
know, nobody, and then on to the next
one, but I remember asking my dad if he could see smoke when we were passing
through the station. I was sure I
could, I thought there was this haze lying over everything and that
She shifts herself onto her back again
and as she talks, Brother Skunk lifts the smock away from her full belly and
begins to kiss and lick at the tight skin.
ache1 (the fingers of both
hands describing the skull beneath his hair): I think that would, if
it came down to some awards ceremony I’d nominate that as top dog in the fear
stakes.
Moving a little, laughing too.
ache1: It was a different
kind of thing, it was just... Hmph,
shuddering as Skunk’s tongue descends to
the initial sparsity of pubic hair and down into the henna-dyed rest.
ache1: I made my dad get us
out at the next station after that, but it was, I couldn’t believe that the
other people were going to stay on the train, when... I mean, we didn’t get out
at our stop, I just wanted to get the hell out of the subway...
Aware of the rising hardness as he
moves, she creates access with the shifting of her weight allowing her legs to
open, reaches back between her legs (arm pressed to her thigh) to manipulate
his prick and its foreskin tight into her body with one hand, the other still
encircling her abdomen and its own movement.
ache1: Ho
the sound of breath expelled in pain.
Skunk: Hey. Hey. Are you okay? ache1?
and her hand having hardly left his
penis back to remove him from herself in one smooth and fluent gesture.
She turns and they kiss, her face oddly
heavy against his own and then the still alien weight of her womb dragged
across his rigid prick, her mouth’s thick saliva coating his nipple and
trailing down so he loses sense of it, its whereabouts upon his body, until he
feels his penis enclosed between the warm walls of her mouth and tongue. His
fraenum is dulled repeatedly to the point of climax but leaves him confused or
emptied by the actual relief of ejaculation versus his perhaps more abstract
concerns within the restraint of the moment itself, any sense of awareness only
returning when her mouth again clamps to his and passes back into its host the
warm not hot slick of fluid, the unplaceable aftertaste of which dies upon the
thinking.
His
bed raw in the other room, Brother Skunk lay asleep in the bath. The irregular
distillate falling from each tap had set up a pattern of interference to play
across the flat surface area of the water, while beneath this and undulating
from the soft vent of his penis billowed an unbroken ribbon of semen,
containing therein some sense of a lost virus’ attempt to locate its own
forgotten source.
With her spine pressed back hard into
his chest, he feels her body given over to the rhythmic breath of sleep, the
pregnancy beneath his hand (his other arm away and cramped behind his back)
itself accommodated within this tide. The skin against his hand grows suddenly
taut, a lump that pushes her flesh out and into his, a tubercle around which
his fingers close, instinctively, applying pressure enough to discern there the
queer texture that reproduces itself in echoes from out his scrotum and its
content of twin floating tunica vaginalis.
