Saturday, June 6, 2015


I remember you wearing a grey sweatshirt that matched your eyes, eyes that I stared into intently in a way that made you uncomfortable as you stood there at the corner of the adult book store.  That shirt really does nothing for you.  Just a grey square that hangs straight from your shoulders down, hiding the trim waist that I had held onto just moments before.  My load is buried in your ass and you're shifting from foot to foot.  I wonder if all that jostling and gravity is going to make you stain your shorts.

You can't look me back in the eye.  Your eyes dart around and finally settle on the concrete as you stammer, "So, uh...  I don't live here but have family around here that I visit..  so, you know, I was..."

I hold out my hand, palm up and snapped my fingers over a couple of times in a one-handed clap.  "Give it here.  Lemme see your phone."  I say it with a smirk.  I'm amused and honored that you don't want the moment we had in the arcade booth to end as you try to find a way to extend contact.

You hand it over surreptitiously.  Well, at least what you think of as surreptitiously, glancing over your shoulder quickly and checking to see if anyone was watching you before you punched in your passcode and all but threw the device over to me.  I'm glad we're not doing a drug deal.  Any one of these cars whizzing by on the busy street while we stood at the corner would have seen a really suspicious move. I open up the address book in your smartphone and create a new contact with just an email address.  The slutty one that I use with my regulars.  The one that you can't as easily trace back to my pedestrian life.  The one that doesn't return anything on facebook.

There's a pause and you say, "I'm glad we met.  That was really, really good."

I half smile again.  Still staring into your eyes.  One eyebrow raised.  "Yeah, bud.  I feel the same way."  I was sincere.  Full smile now.  But I jerked my chin up as if to dismiss you.  You turned to walk away, but glanced over your shoulder for a final look.  And I stood there for a brief moment to watch your ass bounce away and that boxy grey sweatshirt swirl around you, trying to disguise your extremely strong and fit torso.  A cloak to hide you, a barrier to your true self.  Kinda like the email I just gave you.

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