Better Than Burroughs

The Next Day
Callum

I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept hearing Marin say, “Cause I’m already in love with you.” It was torturous. The words bring me such pleasure, it’s astonishing. But they also scare the shite outta me. I didn’t say anything to her about it and I haven’t yet. What am I supposed to say? Thanks? I don’ think so. I love you too? Hardly. I’m not unsure of what I feel for her, I know how I feel about the girl but I don’ know what words to use. I don’t know about those three words and what they mean to her and I don’t want ta say anything that will end up fuckin’ me over. I’m being selfish and that’s nothing new. Sooner or later, she’s going to ask me if I love her. She’s going to ask that god damn question and I’m not going ta say a word, or I’ll start an argument and make the situation worse. How am I going to tell her that I need to live separate? How is she going ta take the news now? It’s gonna seem like I’m tryin’ ta escape from her, especially now that she’s said she’s in love with me. What am I going ta tell her when she asks for the reason? I don’ fucking know! I just know that her livin’ with me is a step that I’m not ready for, that I’ll probably never be ready for. It was fine before, when we weren’t carnal, before things grew serious. Now it’s a god damned relationship and I can’t do so much so fast. It’s too bloody much. When I’m away from her, all I want ta do is fuckin’ end it all. I jus’ don’ think I can live through that.

Why does Marin even love me? Maybe I should ask her. Put her on the spot. Make her blush than kiss her cause I can’ resist her blushing for me.

After an hour, last night, of trying to keep still so Marin wouldn’t wake, seeing as I was her pillow, I gave up and disengaged myself. I sat on the floor beside the bed, staying close to her, and drew her hand on the wall

Truth is, and I couldn’t say a word ta her about it earlier, that I really don’ trust her as much as I would like. I don’ know if it’s her or me but I just don’. She jumped in with me so quickly and even though she didn’ jump into my bed immediately, it was there. I’m paranoid and jealous and I know that. It does nothing to help. I can’ take a moment away from her, she’s always here. If I’m in a shitey mood, she wants to know why. She wants to help. Make me feel all better inside. Flowers and god damn puppy tails. Flowers strapped to puppy tails. Sometimes I just want ta feel like fuckin’ death! I don’ know how ta live with a girl I’m fucking. I know she needs to get out of here and away from me. The only way we’re going to work is if we get our own air. She’s going to get sick of me soon. I don’ know how I’m going to broach the subject with her without being a bastard. There’s also the crippling fear that the second she’s out of my flat, she’s out of my grasp. That I’ll lose her. I want my space and at the same time, I never want her to quit touching me. I’m so fuckin’ pathetic it makes me sick. Why she’s with an emotionally stunted fuck-up, I have no idea. Why she actually loves such an emotionally stunted fuck-up, I’ll never understand. I don’ believe it. I love that she said it, that she obviously thinks it’s how she feels, but she can’t. I don’ want to be around when she realizes that she was wrong.

I skipped out on the store today. Instead, I headed over to see the boys at Vincent’s place. I didn’t invite Marin along on purpose and she didn’t ask to come. I told her the party’s theme and she mentioned something about shopping with Emma. I didn’ feel so bad not asking her to come along. I need to not think about her for a few hours.

Vincent’s house looks exactly the same as the last time I was here and it’s pretty comforting. The plants are still alive so he must have hired someone to take care of the place while he was in England.

I walk up the driveway and I’m saved from having to knock on the door when I spot Vincent, in his underwear and robe, standing on the front lawn with a hose in hand. Silly fuck.

When he spots me, he immediately turns the hose on me, “Godard!”

I try my best to dodge the water by jumping to the left but he still gets my right leg. “Fuckin’ cunt!” I yell, which doesn’ come across all that threatening.

Thankfully, he drops the hose when I reach him. He throws his sinewy arms around me and I return the hug. Pulling away, I pull at his hair, “What the fuck’s this then?”

His hair is actually long, which is a complete shock considering he’s always had it cut pretty damn short in the past. It’s long enough for him to pull the top half up in a rubber band, leaving a little nub sticking out the back of his head. Pretty fuckin’ funny on him. It’s not even dyed some ungodly color.

“What the fuck’s ‘appened to ya?” I ask, looking him up and down. At least the rest of him looks normal.

“Fuckin’ sexy, huh? The birds like havin’ somethin’ ta tug at, but you already know that,” he grins.

“Very true. How was the flight?” I don’ really care how the flight was but I ask cause aren’t you supposed to ask these questions? You’re supposed to care. No one ever does but we all ask.

“Fuckin’ terrible. All the stewardesses had dicks!”

“Flight attendants,” I correct, feeling very sorry for him cause I also like have a woman ta look at on a plane.

“They attended ta nothin’!” he moans, turning the water off. “Deck’s takin’ a soak in the tub and he’s told me you’re livin’ with a wee attendant of your own.”

I follow him into the house and the setup impresses me. Whoever he got to get the place ready for the shindig did a splendid fuckin’ job. A huge pull down projector screen is on the main living room wall, speakers are suspended in every corner, strange lights are hung from various points on the ceiling and I have no idea what sort of light they may put out. He’s got a few old-fashioned English telephone booths set up and I’m sure they’ll be filled with groping couples come party time.

“Can I see your phone?” Vince asks casually, reaching his hand out. I pull it out of my pocket and hand it over, not really caring why he needs it. Five seconds after it hits his hand, he starts whistling, “This is what you’re knockin’?”

Looking over his shoulder, I see that he’s pulled up the camera’s photos. I always forget my phone can do that but apparently Marin doesn’t. I haven’t even seen these. I watch with him as he passes through two more and I grab the phone from him when a picture of her in a red bra comes up.

“No! No! Just another peeky boo!” he yells, trying to keep his grip on my phone. I pinch under his arm with my other hand, causing him to release the phone. Fuckin’ hell, what is Marin doing with my phone when I’m not around?

Making sure that I’m far enough away from the perv, I bring the pictures back up. How long ago did she take these? Just one of her in a bra, which I’m slightly disappointed over, but it’s sexy enough. It’s actually a really simple photo, her holding the phone above her head to take the picture, but it’s of her which means it’s fuckin’ hot. Her breasts are pushed up in the bra and I flip the phone shut to keep my hormones in check. She must have known this would turn me on when I found it. Little minx.

“She’s comin’ tomorrow right? Theme’s changed, it’s a lingerie party now,” Vincent tries.

“Have your outfit already in mind?” Deaglan asks from behind me and I turn to give him a hug. He’s also wearing a bathrobe and I wonder if I should get one to fit in.

“As a matter of bloody fact, I do!” Vince insists. “It’s a nice teddy doll number. Lacy. Very saucy. Red.”

The first chance I get, I separate myself from the two and walk outside to the backyard. Furthering myself from the house, I dial Marin and wait for her to answer. It takes a few rings but she does and I smile at her direct greeting.

“Hey you.”

“Why’d you stop with the bra? You should have gone further with the pictures,” I tease.

“You finally saw that?” she laughs over the line.

“Yes…as well as Vincent. He’s lookin’ forward ta meetin’ ya.”

“What!? You showed him? Why would you show him, Callum?”

“He saw for himself. Believe me, if I had known those were on there, he wouldn’ ‘ave seen them.”

“Great. I haven’t even met him yet and he already knows what I look like without a shirt on.”

“Are you wearin’ that bra right now?” I ask.

Marina

Callum’s voice is low and incredibly husky. I feel the familiar pricks running down my spine and I hide my smile behind my hand so Emma won’t notice. We’re standing in the Corvette Diner, waiting to be seated. Thankfully, we’re not in the main restaurant eating area so the music isn’t as loud here. I can hear what he’s saying and I almost wish that I couldn’t. Almost.

“I don’t know, but I am at a restaurant with Em,” I say conversationally but letting him know that now is not the time.

I can practically hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks, “Maybe you should excuse yourself for a few minutes.”

“And why would I do that?” I ask him. Emma looks over at me and I smile with a shake of my head. She grins and goes back to her highly technological cell phone slash all things internet. I don’t even know what it’s called.

“Because in ten seconds I’m goin’ ta tell you to tease your nipples through your shirt.”

I swallow and glance at Em out of paranoia. She doesn’t have any idea what he’s saying and how would she? Covering the mouthpiece, I stand, “I’m going outside. I can’t hear him very well in here. I’ll be back in a bit.”

She nods her head and I make my way out the front door, having no idea where to go. The bathroom doesn’t appeal. I would prefer to be outside in the fresh air where I can speak freely because I don’t really care if strangers hear bits of the conversation.

“Where’d ya run off to?” Callum asks in my ear. I smile and tell him I went outside.

“I found something to wear to the party,” I say, trying to distract him from his previous topic. A very large part of me doesn’t want him to forget and I know that he won’t.

I’m so grateful that I didn’t have to go to the mall to find something for the party. I love that I live nearby some…unique shops. San Diego is a perk, it really is. You’re rather close to everything. The only thing I find annoying about the place is the people. Sometimes they just get to me. Em and I drove down to Hillcrest mainly for the used clothes. This morning, Callum told me that Vincent’s party has an English theme. So anything that looks maybe even a little English should work. I went through tons of ideas and I hadn’t been able to think of anything that I really wanted to wear. Whatever I wear needs to be something I can wear to Muriel’s party. At first, I really liked the idea of dressing up as John Cleese’s cigarette girl selling an Albatross, but I didn’t want to carry a tray around. Without the tray, it’s not much of an outfit.

So after two hours of shopping, I managed to find a maid type outfit that instantly reminded me of Polly from Fawlty Towers. While it’s not Monty Python, the show was pitch-perfect and considering Connie Booth was married to Mr. Cleese and she co-wrote the show and was fabulous as Polly, it’s pretty damn close. The dress is a tad shorter but I’m sure Callum won’t be minding. I just need to fix my hair up like hers and I should be golden. It even has the little bow type thing she always had at her neckline. I doubt anyone will recognize it as being Polly, but it is and as long as I know, I’m happy. It was either this, or dress as a Bond girl. Emma called the Bond girl. She’s recently seen the newest Bond film and it has piqued her interest in the entire film history. Daniel Craig is completely sexy and probably a better Bond than Connery, who can blame her?

“What’d ya find?”

“It’s a surprise,” I say, absently walking across the street when the coast is clear. I know there are places to sit in the little piazza that has a theater and numerous businesses.

“Update on the bra?”

Laughing, I don’t need to look to know that my bra is not red, nor is it any other sexy color. It’s beige and not sexy at all. I tell him that he doesn’t need to know what the color of my bra is but that it’s not anything special.

“Any bra on you is fetching.”

“You’re so kind,” I coo sarcastically.

“And completely solid.”

“Wow, you’re pathetic,” I say with a laugh, trying my best to keep my mind on mocking him and not on the images and feelings he’s conjuring. The fact that where I chose to sit is very secluded isn’t lost on me. I’m sitting on a bench underneath a balcony for the theater above, it’s dark and a lot colder than anywhere else.

“Make sure you’re home by eight.”

“Well, I don’t think I will be.”

“You better be.”

I really don’t think I will be. I’ll make sure not to be, just to see what he’ll do. I’m sure Em and I can take in a movie. We can do something. I assure him that I’ll be home, that we’ve already finished shopping, and he seems pleased. I almost laugh.

“Now…back to the brassiere.”

“One track mind, huh? I’m not telling,” I say firmly, the stone bench freezing cold on my thighs, even through my pants.

“Does this mean I’ll have to persuade you? I’m akin to persuasion games.”

“And how would you do that? You can’t do anything. You’re in a completely different place,” I point out smugly, knowing that I’m safe from his wandering hands.

“True, but you’re there and you just won’ be able to help yourself.”

“From doing what? You’re being rather vague.”

I listen carefully for his response and he waits a few seconds to say anything. When he speaks, I forget to breathe.

“My fingers are itching to get under that little t-shirt you’re wearin’, to pull it up your quivering stomach.”

My hand tightens around the phone as I try to keep my breathing steady. My stomach feels like a lead weight and I fidget on the bench, trying to alleviate the ache between my legs. My other hand is clutching the bench beneath me so I won’t let it wander.

“Are you wet? Why don’ you reach down and check? Jus’ for a secon’.”

“Callum…” I strain with his name and keep my voice hushed. I want him. I hate him for doing this to me. For making me this needy. I can’t keep still. I want nothing more than to do exactly as he says. I can’t though, I’m in public and I know that if I actually do as he says, I won’t want to stop and it would be absolute torture to do so.

“Tell me what you need, Marina. Say the words.” His voice is hard, demanding and somehow still gentle. I sit up straighter because of it. I bite my lip and shut my eyes, turning more towards the corner.

“Callum, stop it.”

“But you don’ want me ta stop.”

“Yes…I do.”

“Liar. I want to hear you moan, squirm. I need to hear you.”

I can barely tell him to stop it. The words die in my throat and they only come out as a muffled groan. I hear him moan in response and if I wasn’t wet before, there’s no mistaking the fact that I am now.

“Are you touching yourself for me?”

Suddenly, I realize that I am. At some point, the hand that was clutching the bench wandered to the inside of my thigh, pressuring circles through my thin pants.

“Tell me.”

“…yes,” I softly mutter.

He sighs and the sound tears through me. The ache only worsens and I can’t think about anything but his body. His hands touching me as he fucks me.

“That’s a good girl. Now, I want you ta enjoy your lunch and I’ll see you tonight.”

“What?”

Before I know it, he says goodbye rather cheerfully and I’m left with a dead phone. I sit for a full minute before I actually recover from the shock of being hung up on. He worked me up and hung up on me! He did it on purpose! How am I supposed to be normal now?

I stand up on shaky legs and slowly walk back towards the restaurant, squinting at the sun when I step back out into the street. I move on autopilot. Em is no longer waiting for a table so I walk through the restaurant to look for her. She sees me before I see her and she waves her arms dramatically. I smile the best that I can and move over to join her.

“Where have you been? I looked outside for you when our name was called but didn’t see you,” she says. “I got you a Diet Coke.”

“Thanks,” I say, even though I’m craving a regular. Probably because of Callum. “I wandered across the street to where the theater is.”

“Above that parking garage?”

I nod my head as I take a sip from my soda. Picking up my menu, I take my time staring at it, not thinking about food whatsoever. I bet he’s just so pleased with himself. Smug bastard!

“You okay?” Em asks, moving the menu down from in front of my face.

“Yeah, fine. Sorry,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “Callum just got under my skin a bit. I’ll get him back some other time.”

“A fight?”

“Sort of. He’s over at that guy, Vincent’s, house doing god only knows what.”

When the waiter comes to take our order, I quickly scan the food and just settle on a cob salad, not really feeling all that hungry anymore. At least not for food. When the cheerful waiter, with too many buttons on to read, leaves, Emma fixes me with a contemplative look.

“So, who is this Vince guy?”

I shrug, “Mostly a friend of Deaglan’s. Callum knows him but I think he’s mostly Deaglan’s friend.”

“Is he cute like those two? Probably,” she says. Out of her purse, she pulls out her new pair of sunglasses she bought for five dollars and places them on her head.

“I have no idea. I haven’t seen any pictures,” I laugh. The music seems especially loud and when I mention it, Em nods her head in agreement.

After we get our food and after we are pelted with forty straws, Em looks up at me, “So how’s the relationship?”

“Last night was a little tense. He’s not happy about Morgan. He came into the store and Callum had a masculine eruption over it. He’s a tad jealous. And he asked about that MRI I got and was a little angry when I told him what happened with it.” Em knows about the MRI but only cause she was with me when they called. I wouldn’t have thought to tell her either if she hadn’t been around.

“I told you that he’d want to know,” she rubs in but I don’t remember her ever saying that. I don’t argue with her about it because I don’t have the correct amount of brain cells to do it right now. Callum’s distracting without even being here. He’s a presence without being present.

8.32pm
Callum

Thirty fuckin’ two minutes late. She said she would be here. Not only am I annoyed and a bit brassed off, I’m completely turned on knowing that she’s doing this on purpose. Just to show me that I don’t dictate her life. That’s fine, but she’s in for some bloody good torture. What a dodgy move on her part. I knew she would want to get some sort of revenge for succeeding in gettin’ her all twitterpated, but this is fucked. This is just mean.

I can’t sit still. I tried sitting on the couch and that only lasted two god damn minutes, if that. I tried playing music but it only ended up spurning my thoughts in dangerous directions. I refuse to call her. I won’t be that guy. I’m already sitting around waitin’ for her so I’m not that far from being the pathetic git who calls every four minutes askin’ which signal she just drove through so as to pinpoint her exact location. I called Deck instead and ignored Vince’s screaming attempts at getting me to purchase him some new pornographic videos. The call lasted seven minutes and I almost left to wander the streets.

If it weren’t so frigid outside, I’d be on the roof. As it is, I’ve retired to the bathtub with a Vesper and a book. Not bad at all.

Marina

“You wanna go for another round after this one’s up?” Emma asks, picking her ball up from the rack.

Leaning my elbows on the small table, I purse my lips. It’s getting close to nine and another round of bowling probably won’t take that long. It’s just the two of us.

“Sure, but that’s the last one. I don’t want to be two hours late.”

“Why not just stay out all night? That’ll really piss him off,” Em laughs, taking care in hurtling the ball towards the pins. Two refuse to go down and she frowns.

“Don’t even pout over that,” I scold. I don’t get bowling. It’s fun but it just doesn’t work well for me. I’m perfectly content with being horrid. Emma’s freakishly good and I don’t understand where she picked this up from. I wiggle my toes from inside the rental shoes and feel a little uncomfortable about wearing communal shoes. Whenever I’m in these places, I think of Big Lebowski and always scan the aisles looking for a Jesus-type character. I never see one. It’s disappointing.

We hit a movie after lunch and just occupied ourselves until we decided bowling was a good choice. We got a little sidetracked in the arcade room and ended up losing ten dollars but how can you resist racecar games? You just can’t. That simple.

Looking at my cell phone for the hundredth time, he hasn’t called. I’m a little disappointed. I sort of wanted him to call in a huff. I wonder what he’s doing. If he’s upset at all or if he wasn’t really serious earlier. He’s probably not even home. I wouldn’t be surprised if he went over to hang out with Deaglan.

When I finally get back to the flat, it’s after nine and all the lights are on. Closing the front door behind me, I stay casual as I walk into my bedroom, expecting Callum to appear at any minute. I set my purse down and toe my shoes off. He doesn’t walk in and I don’t hear anything. The jerk totally skipped out on me!

After I check upstairs, not finding him in bed, I sigh and head for the bathroom. If he’s not home, I may as well just forget about the whole thing and take a shower. That way I can make sure to be sleeping when he gets back. See how he likes that!

I unzip my jacket and leave it on the couch as I walk past. I flick the bathroom light on and find Callum lying in the bathtub. What an odd man.

His eyes are shut and his head is resting back against the porcelain rim. I smile and cross my arms over my chest. He looks very much asleep but I, somehow, doubt that to be true. He’s still wearing his jeans from this morning and the same button down black pinstriped shirt. The cuffs are unbuttoned but not rolled and there’s something so incredibly sexy about cuffs hanging open. It’s that peek of the inside wrist and the pale skin further up. I love it. His boots are still on, wedged against the faucet, his knees bent.

His arms are resting along the sides of the tub, a book open on his stomach. The cover tells me that it is Pasolini poems. An empty martini glass is sitting on the edge, his fingers loosely framing the stem. I quietly move over to the toilet, slowly lowering the seat and sitting down. I lean forward, my elbows on my knees and chin on my joined hands. Breathing quietly, I’m not sure what to do. Should I wake him or just leave him? He seems to be sleeping but he should probably move to the bed. I don’t want to sleep alone tonight and who knows what sleeping in there will do to his neck.

9.23pm
Callum

I know she’s here, sitting on the toilet. I woke up when she lowered the lid. I wasn’t fully asleep, just a catnap of sorts. Now I just don’t know how I should let her know I’m awake. How long is she going to sit there for? I can practically feel her eyes on me, trying to see through me. My skin is crawling and my muscles involuntarily tighten.

After, what seems like two hours, I can’t fuckin’ take her stillness any longer and I break. “You can’t actually read my mind. You know this, right?”

“Damn, and I was trying so hard,” she quips and I smile.

“You turned the light on,” I complain, opening my eyes and tilting my head away from the light.

“I didn’t know you would be enjoying a martini in the bathtub, can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“A Vesper,” I correct, sitting up and turning my body to face her, hanging my legs over the side, careful not to knock the glass to the ground. My book manages to stay in place. She taps at my right boot and I lace my fingers over my stomach. She looks wonderful. Her hair pulled up away from her face, showing off her pale neck. The tendons are glorious.

“A what?” she asks, picking the glass up and sniffing at its emptiness.

“Vesper. Three measures of Gordon’s, one vodka, half of Kina Lillet. Shaken over ice with a slice of lemon peel,” I slowly say, smiling to myself.

She gives me a look I’m sure is completely mocking and I bump my foot against her knee. I watch her stand, her hands smoothing down her pants and it draws my attention to her center. I wonder if her panties are still damp. If she’s been thinking about tonight. I bet while she was deliberately avoiding me for an hour, I was all she could think about.

“How were you reading with the light off?” she asks after a moment of silence.

“I can see in the dark,” I say sarcastically, acting as if her question was completely moronic when in fact, it was completely logical. I simply forgot to turn the light on. I was too lazy to get up again and after a few minutes of trying to read, I gave up and fell asleep. That’s a little embarrassing though. I’d rather be a dick.

I pick the book up, interested to see what I was trying to read earlier and read quietly to myself, loud enough for her to hear.

“And I’ve never sinned;I’m pure like some old saint, but that’s
gained me nothing; the desperate
gift of sex has gone
up into smoke: I’m good
like a madman. Destiny
gave me the past, but it’s only
an emptiness…disconsolate…
consoling. Leaning on the window sill,
I observe those two lightly moving
in the sun; and I feel like a boy
who moans for what he hasn’t had
as well as what he’ll never have…
And in that weeping, the world is solely
odor: violets and meadows
my mother knows, and in those springtimes…
odor trembling, here where tears
are sweet, to become material
for expression, nuance…the familiar
voice of that mad true language
I had at birth and in life is still.”

I close the book and look up at her. She’s smiling softly and holds her hand out to me, saying, “Come on, I’ll help you out.”

Weighing my options very briefly, I take her hand and quickly pull her down on top of me, carefully tossing the book across the bathroom. I grab her shoulder with my other hand, making sure to keep her from hitting anything but my body. The last thing I want is for her to get a bloody concussion.

“Callum! You jerk.”

“Oooh, biting.”

When she struggles, I hold her waist tighter.

“Fine! At least let me get comfortable,” she grunts, using my chest to push herself to the side, finally settling her butt at the end of the tub, her legs over my stomach. I pull off her shoes. Cute little gray things with black bows. Very feminine and simple. No heel. While women look sexy in heels, the ways in which their feet get fucked almost isn’ worth it. Tossing the shoes in the direction of my book, I slide my hands up and down her calf, massaging the muscle. She makes a little mewing sound very low in her throat and squirms. I pretend not to notice.

“Callum, why are we sitting here? It’s cold.”

“You’re cold? We can’ have that.” I twist the hot water on and she yelps like a little puppy. The water hasn’t even reached her yet, I’m the one close to the faucet and having to clench my fist past the freezing cold water. Thankfully, I have excellent plumbing and it barely takes three seconds for the warmth to kick in.

Three seconds too long for Marin, however, because she’s struggling to get out. I latch onto her arm but her heel jabs me in the side and I let go.

“You lunatic!” she shouts after she’s fully rescued herself.

“You didn’ even get wet,” I accuse. I twist the cold on a bit, now feeling that the water is getting too hot.

“I am so wet,” she says, pulling at the leg of her pants. I scoff at her complaints and stare up at her. I had so many brilliant plans earlier of how I was going to fuck her against the wall the second she walked in the flat. How I was goin’ ta torture her slowly. The plans changed the later it got. Than I fell asleep a bit and now I’m not really in the mood to do the wall thing. I’m having too much fun annoyin’ her. However, I still can’t let her comment slip by without making a remark of my very own.

“Oh, I know you still are, sweetness,” I say suggestively. My voice as lurid as I can possibly make it. She blushes and her eyes flick away from mine. She’ll always be so damn demure.

The water level is rising and my clothes are completely gone. I don’t mind. I hadn’t noticed how cold it actually was in here until I turned the hot water on. Steam is rising and beginning to fog up the mirror behind Marin. I wish she would come back in. I’ve been meaning to take a nice bath with her. Granted, I’ve never thought that clothes would be in the picture but I’ve been meaning ta see her all wet.

Marin brings her eyes back to mine and I notice the change. They’re darker and she’s got this damned smile on her face. Stepping forward, she leans over to turn the water off. Still leaning forward, she braces herself on the side of the tub, her hands on either side of my leg. She brushes her lips against my ear, kissing softly. I tilt my head to the side without thinking.

“You should really get out,” she whispers and this time I listen without thought.

11.36pm

The sheets are damp beneath us, the majority of it being from my not drying off after leaving the bath. Marin’s half asleep, buried underneath the sheet and comforter, her shoulder peeking out.

“Are you warm enough?” she murmurs, her voice sleepy but completely satisfied. Her simple question fills me with an odd warmth. I’ve never been asked that before. Not like this. Never in this way.

I make a general yes sound and press my nose against the back of her neck. I understand this spooning notion. It’s wonderful. Her body fits so perfectly against mine. Her rear against my hips, her back curved against me. Her shoulder is bowed forward, one hand shoved under her pillow and the other laced with mine in front of her chest. I love feeling her like this. Quiet and still. Cuddling never made much sense to me before her. Then again, I never bothered to really sleep with a girl before her. I completely understand it though. Her body is intoxicating. It makes you feel loved, having someone sleep next to you. Someone who chooses to be that close.

With her hair pulled up on the pillow, it’s easy for me to press my lips against the back of her neck. I softly tell her to sleep and five seconds later, I’m pretty sure she’s listened. My body is humming in contentment and I expect to fully sleep through the night quite happily. My fingers, however, feel stiff and I release her hand. I can’t sleep while holding someone’s hand. Especially in this twined fashion. It’s not comfortable enough. I rest my hand on her shoulder and my elbow on her side, finding it far more comfortable.

I can smell her perfume, it’s light and almost edible. It smells edible. That may just be her. I don’t know what it’s called, it just has hearts on the glass bottle. I actually like it though, which is rare. Usually perfume is too fuckin’ strong. She never wears so much that I can’t smell her beneath it. She does this thing that I fuckin’ love; she sprays it on in a way that her hair catches it. The back of her neck always smells so damn good, her hair keeping the rest. She doesn’t really put any on her body. Which is a good thing. I like her natural scent. Her arms smell like a childhood. That sensation of innocence and wonderment that you lose at a certain point. She smells like a good book. Like Peter Pan, The Little Prince. I smell more like anything written by Bukowski or Corso. Definite difference.

Her toes are pressed against my shin and they’re warm. She’s not incredibly tiny, shorter than me but not short at all, though she feels so small against me. Maybe I just feel overly large. An oaf.

I’m looking forward to this gathering tomorrow. The party will go well and I can practically see the events. I’ll be waiting for her appearance all night, she’ll show up and look stunning. Vincent will be the complete wanker that he is, I’ll want to apologize for him but probably won’t. Deaglan will be slightly less of a wanker but not by much. I won’t feel any need to apologize for him. We’ll drink, come home, and have a lovely roll around.

I start to feel the pulling of unconsciousness and I feel the need to whisper something sweet. I fight the urge. I don’ want to promise anything I won’t keep. I’ve promised enough as it is. Every word is a promise. Every look and touch. Holding her while she sleeps. It’s all slowly taking us to the highest precipice and there’s no where to go from there but to the pain.


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Author’s Note: B.Penn, over from FictionPress, wrote me a new summary:

Burroughs said it best, “Perhaps all pleasure is only relief.” This is how Callum led his life… until he met Marina. Maybe pleasure can be something more than relief.

Firstly, the Corvette Diner is a real place in Hillcrest in San Diego. The servers throw things at you, straws being the main weapons and Bazooka gum at the end of the meal.

Fawlty Towers – TV series. Perfectly timed. Absolute genius. If you do the Netflix or online Blockbuster thing, put it on your list. Trust me.

The Big Lebowski – movie. A character, Jesus, has very amusing bowling methods, hence the reference.

“The Religion Of My Time” by Pier Paolo Pasolini. What I had Callum read is only a very small portion of the poem.

“Peter Pan” by JM Barrie

“The Little Prince” by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry