Not talking about sexual innuendos or the likes sets my mind straight to it. No sex I think to myself and then, dire prospects. How about a party somewhere else then. Party is out of the question too. There is sports and football, but I don’t care much for either unless it’s the world cup and the pubs are filled with nationals from either team and the atmosphere is spirited and steaming. But that‘s more about hanging out with friends and sharing angst ridden moments without to much care. Brings me back to wanting to go to a good party, one where debauchery is spelled with capital letters and anything that can happen does. The girl you have secretly stared at all night suddenly presses her generous build against you and you can feel her breath on your face, all steamed up, slightly flustered from the heat and the drink, she smiles, mumbles something of an introduction you half understand, then pushes past, while your eyes follow her cleavage, till you feel her hand taking yours and you follow. A bit outside the centre madness, where there is time to breath and words can be uttered as well as understood you come to a halt and she turns to you. Close enough to see the thin film of sweat on her, she gives you a smile, showing her teeth and you feel good just for that. Now you can exchange names for names sake and to break the impending silence. You can hear her laugh carry, then she squeezes your hand and you squeeze it back and as important as names are they are not and almost forgotten immediately. Her big eyes look at you and with the heat and the smile, the noise and commotion you do what you feel like doing and bend down, hover a moment then taste her salty lips feel her press against you as she hungrily responds.
Now a tangle of tongue and hearts, lust rises and remains unnoticed inside the where you are. The music picks up and we edge back to the centre of madness, where the dancing bodies mingle with others and as we shake in the rhythm we drift and get separated. Then only a big pair of eyes catch a glimpse now and then, till that is lost too.
But I wasn’t gonna talk of parties and will not cause memories fade and the next day it’s all but forgotten. A taste still lingers, better than that of a dream, but as elusive, you regret not having taken her number or handed out yours and look forward to a good party one with all the right moments to be memorable.
Then the monotony of the daily days catches up, you drift through meaningless moments at work to pay your bills and know you are meant for something different.