PARTING NOTES

“In the multiple peregrinations of love, Sabina is quick to recognize the echoes of larger loves and desires. The larger ones, particularly if they had not died a natural death, never died completely and left reverberations. Once interrupted, broken artificially, suffocated accidentally, they continued to exist in separate fragments and endless smaller echoes.”

- A Spy in the House of Love, Anais Nin (1954)

****

On that morning of his departure, she went into the guestroom and lay next to him.

The day before, she shared with him the story of “The Respectful Murderer”. But it was too late. She could not by then have him on her own terms. But she gave him the answers he wanted. Just this once. For M…

****

She got onto the bed and lay next to him, careful to leave a gap between them, mindful of his 24-hour turnaround principle from two nights before to do the rightthing. That entailed an unwillingness to reciprocate or replicate previous acts of intimacies. She stared at the ceiling lost in thoughts. Then she began to speak quietly in her usual third person narration.

Oh, M is leaving today.” The tone was resigned. Too many tears shed over the weekend. From 2005 into 2006. And her New Year resolution was to be a happier person.

He turned to look at her, studying her face, her eyes. She eyed him as equally intent.

She sensed his weakening will and began to touch his face. She carefully felt the texture of his skin, running her finger over his lips, copper blond brow and hair, registering every touch as it might well be the last that she were to be close with her Beautiful Boy again. Her M...

Stealthily, she climbed on top of him and kissed his forehead. Then she attempted to inch herself upwards, her bosoms reached his mouth level. He turned his face away. He refused to look at her, a pained expression on his face. But this time, he did not turn her away like two nights before (then he rejected her advances and begged her to stop hurting him in his suppressed tone of pain and frustration, mindful of parental authorities in the opposite room. She hugged him tight from behind and when he asked her to leave repeatedly, she finally stormed out of the room and spat spitefully, “I HATE you”for his cruelty and her love for him, tears streaming and her heart aching).

Conscious that the situation might spiral to re-enact that all too emotional episode of rejection from two nights before and backed by the reinforcement of her practical mind that perhaps this was for the best (someone’s got to be the first to break the bad news), she moved away acquiescently and returned to lie on her back next to him.

They turned sideways to look at each other.

He appeared like he wished to speak but instead he let out a sigh.

She had summed up her feelings well enough over that weekend and another utter of “I love M” was not going to change the situation or enhance their future possibility. She stretched the corners of her mouth to that usual mock smile, which she is wont to do in her morose state to mentally brave the world of heartaches and disappointments. Pensively, she studied the face of her Beautiful Boy, knowing full well that perhaps it was for the last time. She felt that she was fast losing ground, with that slight dizziness that one in love experiences slipping away and which was speedily replaced by the heaviness of a heart-wrenching pain that could contagiously fill up the void of her being.

Then they held their arms out on each other’s waists for an embrace, still leaving that gap between them. They held like that for a long while, his hands on her bare skin underneath her loose T-shirt.

When it got all too uncomfortable to lay on her side, she resumed her position to lie flat on her back. All this while, she took care not to break away from his touch.

She moved his hand that yielded his power to her. She guided his hand on her smooth bare skin. He felt her belly and allowed his hand to rest there. She steered his palm to wander upwards along her chest.

Then she let it rest there. On the left of her bare bosom. (She is ever so conscious of that part of her body). He understood the profound implications of that gesture.

He freed that guided hand from her grip to deny their desires. His escaped hand still underneath her T-shirt reappeared in a split second of a lightning from her collar.

He seized her throat. Then, turned her to eye him. He looked serious and maintained his gaze at her. He further tightened his grip.

All the while, they continued to focus on each other’s expression.

Up to a point, she began to feel that asphyxiating discomfort from the ever-constricting clench. She grabbed his wrist and pulled the hand away and broke free from his handle.

**

They laid back and stared into the ceiling.

Shortly after, she turned to her side and allowed her hands to wander. Her finger roamed tenderly along his bare chest and gradually headed down south along his half nakedness. His throbbing member continued to harden and enlarge. Her fingers teased its outline. Then she slide her fingers nimbly into the loose elastic waistband of his boxers through the gap created by his erected cock. With the back of her fingers, she stroked his private part affectionately, which yielded responsively to each of her touch. He lay there, his arms wide open, watching her lovingly but tinged with a certain quality of sadness. He did not reciprocate her touch. At intervals, they both took deep breaths of rising desires.

Unable to control her intensifying passion for him, she proceeded to caress the tight and hardened member in her grip, possessing his vulnerability. She sensually massaged it and her forefinger lingered around his wetting tip.

Quite instantly, he intervened to curtail their pleasure and snatched her firmly by the wrist. She stubbornly struggled to hang on, tempting his delicate fervour. Finally, she succumbed to the weight of his rebuffing insistence and she turned away, hurt.

He turned her to him gently.

Do you think I am made of steel?”

He studied her face earnestly.

She shrugged. But in her heart, she understood him.

Throwing her head on his chest and fighting back the tears, he closed her tight in his arms.

Labels: THE P-oignant Moments

# posted by DilettanteP @ 5:17 pm