You climb up next to me, I feel the breeze, the brush of skin on skin. Hairs stand up on either arm, fighting stance. Battle of the sexes so defined. You lay there, I feel your stare bore through me. You expect me to turn, to kiss you, to not ask your name.
An empty sense creeps up from deep inside, a cry from my torn soul maybe?
Religion was never that attractive to me in my youth...well if I’m honest, right through to adulthood considering the situation I’ve put myself into.
I use all my effort, crease a smile, turn, greet the stranger next to me.
My hairs, still on end as I know what comes next. His eyes close, lips close, come at me like an owl in the night swooping in toward a terrified field mouse. I let him press against me, my eyes open, mouth sealed. He moves, groans next to me.
I need a drink.
After slightly pulling away, I offer the idea, in a subconscious pleading way. He senses my hesitation but as he slurs his answer back to me, all thoughts about what I may be feeling, passing with a shrug. I tip toe out of the room, unfamiliar surroundings, the couch, TV, kitchen, turn left. I see my coat by the door, wearing just my underwear, I debate grabbing it and heading for the door. I shake this off, think of the money. The rent is due, how else can I eat tomorrow?! Rational ideas in this irrational situation. His house, cold, like my body to his touch. I open the fridge; the smell of stale ale hits me. Turn my head to catch my breath.
I face the bar in front of me, the light covering my body. Black bra & knickers bought with money left over from last month’s pay check, attempting to achieve a bigger tip, though they only end up on the dirty floor next to the cockroaches of random flats I can’t bear to seek comfort in.
The downfall of this girl is similar to most, she is nothing special. Though her family tells her to come home, the pride and trouble she has gotten into keeps her here, in this routine.
3 beers shine in glory, 1st bottle cracked open with a hiss.
Down in one.
This game needs a little push to win. I grab the 2 left, open them and reel in the hiss. A taunting laugh from the fizz released from the drug she craves. I slam the fridge to get rid of the last of my frustration, I attempt a skip back into the room but my feet can’t feel the fake joy I can mass into my smile. His eyes, sleepier now. Still clothed in shorts and a white vest, partially vomit stained. I watch his attempt to follow me with his stare, he lies back. I pour the beer into his open waiting mouth, I play the game, I sit on him, he lifts his hands, places them on my hips and asks me to dance. I do. His fingers, workman’s hands, rough, old. I let them move up my back, I start to drift to another world.
When he is finished, I come back to the dark room, reality hits like a bitch. Wet. He smiles; I return the favour for the cash he holds out to me in his hand. The money doubled, a genuine smile appears. I thank him, he passes out. I re-dress. Grab my coat, stuff the reward into the waiting inside pocket. I bounce down the stairs, out the front door, a man passed out on the steps outside. I take the cigarette half lit out of his hands and skip down the street to the twinkling lampposts.
The underwear actually worked. I can’t believe it!
Jazz is everything!...
Under the black eyes, the dried up, brittle mascara...there lies a story. A woman, sitting, drinking coffee...cigarette between two long white fingers, red nail polish at the tips...sunglasses. Large, black, no eyes present.
Mid morning.
Yesterday's make-up.
The sun, peering through a broken cloud in the murky sky. A glimmer of life flickers across the black, sheen of glass...Mid day, he still isn't here... 2nd cup of coffee... 3rd cup.
Can someone ever have too much coffee she thought? ...Unthinkable...
A suggestion of something real. A suit in the distance, swaying to some unheard beat, gliding in between the bustling crowds. Tall man. Large hat covers any facial features recognisable. Is that the guy? Her guy? 1 hour late, must be him...*nervously she takes a long drawn out sip of coffee.* Smudging her lipstick as the cup parts her lips. Red smear left behind. He comes closer, dancing with the strips of sunlight guiding his path. Her head pounding from the gin soaked evening the night before, alone, one has the right to keep themselves company. The man, ever closer makes no suggestion of movement towards her, her eyes flicker with desperation. He stops near here, only to catch his breathe, her back stiffened. Fear, her nervous sexuality heightened, overcome with the thought of possibility...then without hesitation...he picks himself up with his new lease of energy and disappears. Swaying to the motion of some soft sound on the wind until he's a mere speck on the horizon. The woman, taken, turns and follows his movements, lowers her glasses. Her eyes fill with fresh air. As colour slowly seeps into them, like a waterfall to the sea, they fill up. From a deathly grey they then turn a rich darkened brown. She turns back to look at the dry, dead ring of filter coffee in the collected cups in front of her next to the burnt out cigarette surrounded by dead buds, desperate needs absorbed by her in the past few hours.
The clouds part.
Sunlight now filling the streets, bars, faces around her. A deep breathe of air enters her lungs, as if to lift her from her low, she feels herself stand. Easier than before.
A saxophone plays.
A new rythm, she allows the music that was never there before enter her and dances with the ever changing sunlight warming the pavement ahead of her.