has come out.
I'm not certain. I've never been certain with her.
What's this all about?
It was a test! She says with a
grin.
You passed!
That was fucked up.
I'm sorry. I've been bad.
Yes you have.
The quickness with which she turns
on the sexuality, or is able to tickle my sexuality, is probably the reason I'm
still with her. Crazy bitch, but she's just right for me. Besides, it's not
like I'm all that perfect. One year after
getting back ito civilian life and she's not sick of my antics yet.
I take her as she pretend falls
into my arms and looks up at me. I can smell her perfume and the rub of sandal
soap on her light skin. Her eyes are greener than cracked chem-lights. I kiss
her. Full lips. My hands move down to her waist, thin, and her ass: round.
There's a host of things to attend to and I realize that I can't fuck her
brains out like I want to, like my body is screaming at me to do.
What about the landowner? I ask.
He'll kick me out. But I don't care
about that.
What do you care about?
Us.
Yes, I'm a sucker for her words
too. We kiss harder, her hand moves to undo my pants.
Are you asking to move in with me?
What am I, domesticated? She asks
with a condescending squint.
I pause. I fondle. I don't really
think of answering, because with her you have to know when to care.
Well, let's go then. She says and
pulls away from me.
My place?
I'm packed.
She shows me her suitcases and
smiles.
You're ready to go too, right?
I pause: It'll take a minute.
I throw her things into her car.
She runs back to her place then
jumps into the passenger seat.
Drive!
I pop the car into first gear and
it takes off. In the rearview mirror I watch my car as it disappears around the
bend. When we get to the highway, I swear I can see smoke from the direction of
her building. I look at her. She's looking back too, bubbling in her seat. This
is a bad idea, a part of me says.
When did you get this idea? I ask
when we merge into the freeway.
Oh, just now.
And where, might I ask, are you
going to go next?
We, silly, we're going to someplace
nice.
I stare at her like she's nuts.
You quit your job again?
I got tired.
She had a good job as a manager at
some store. She'd been to college. Hell, she even got an MBA, which is
something I never really understood, especially for someone with her personality.
A cage, she called her job. And since she was free, she jumped from job to job
as she felt. Was I coming along too? Of course, I had a job as a security
manager that I didn't care for. Nevertheless a part of me was jumping up and
down, pointing at her messed up personality, and telling me that I should
reconsider going with her. Most of me, however, was too excited about her to
care.
We get to my place, a room I'm
subletting in a house, and I pack my things. It all fits in my backpack.
So where to now? I ask back in the
car.
Anywhere beautiful. She says.
She says this and looks at me. Such
a dichotomy. Half of me wants to slap her, while the other half of me wants to
fuck her on the car seat. I've yet to use the word love with her, but I'm
pretty sure that the lust I feel for her is stronger than most.
How about Canada?
Okay.
She snuggles up to my arm when
we're back on the freeway and I drive the early part of the night away. My
concentration must have looked like worry because she tugs my ear.
Don't worry, love, I have enough
money to take us anywhere. Okay?
I nod. It isn't on my mind, but if
she's been saving up for this, then she must have had this idea for quite some
time, right? I wonder if I should ask. She's not good under questioning. She's
probably amazing as a spy, since she can evade and smile her way around
whatever it is that she doesn't answer. Why am I with her again? I guess I'm not
all that certain.
I pull into a motel when my eyes
finally squeeze tight for a moment that's longer than a few seconds. I look
over at her. She's crawled up in a ball, sleeping. She's in her shorts, and I
can see that
I'm not certain. I've never been certain with her.
What's this all about?
It was a test! She says with a
grin.
You passed!
That was fucked up.
I'm sorry. I've been bad.
Yes you have.
The quickness with which she turns
on the sexuality, or is able to tickle my sexuality, is probably the reason I'm
still with her. Crazy bitch, but she's just right for me. Besides, it's not
like I'm all that perfect. One year after
getting back ito civilian life and she's not sick of my antics yet.
I take her as she pretend falls
into my arms and looks up at me. I can smell her perfume and the rub of sandal
soap on her light skin. Her eyes are greener than cracked chem-lights. I kiss
her. Full lips. My hands move down to her waist, thin, and her ass: round.
There's a host of things to attend to and I realize that I can't fuck her
brains out like I want to, like my body is screaming at me to do.
What about the landowner? I ask.
He'll kick me out. But I don't care
about that.
What do you care about?
Us.
Yes, I'm a sucker for her words
too. We kiss harder, her hand moves to undo my pants.
Are you asking to move in with me?
What am I, domesticated? She asks
with a condescending squint.
I pause. I fondle. I don't really
think of answering, because with her you have to know when to care.
Well, let's go then. She says and
pulls away from me.
My place?
I'm packed.
She shows me her suitcases and
smiles.
You're ready to go too, right?
I pause: It'll take a minute.
I throw her things into her car.
She runs back to her place then
jumps into the passenger seat.
Drive!
I pop the car into first gear and
it takes off. In the rearview mirror I watch my car as it disappears around the
bend. When we get to the highway, I swear I can see smoke from the direction of
her building. I look at her. She's looking back too, bubbling in her seat. This
is a bad idea, a part of me says.
When did you get this idea? I ask
when we merge into the freeway.
Oh, just now.
And where, might I ask, are you
going to go next?
We, silly, we're going to someplace
nice.
I stare at her like she's nuts.
You quit your job again?
I got tired.
She had a good job as a manager at
some store. She'd been to college. Hell, she even got an MBA, which is
something I never really understood, especially for someone with her personality.
A cage, she called her job. And since she was free, she jumped from job to job
as she felt. Was I coming along too? Of course, I had a job as a security
manager that I didn't care for. Nevertheless a part of me was jumping up and
down, pointing at her messed up personality, and telling me that I should
reconsider going with her. Most of me, however, was too excited about her to
care.
We get to my place, a room I'm
subletting in a house, and I pack my things. It all fits in my backpack.
So where to now? I ask back in the
car.
Anywhere beautiful. She says.
She says this and looks at me. Such
a dichotomy. Half of me wants to slap her, while the other half of me wants to
fuck her on the car seat. I've yet to use the word love with her, but I'm
pretty sure that the lust I feel for her is stronger than most.
How about Canada?
Okay.
She snuggles up to my arm when
we're back on the freeway and I drive the early part of the night away. My
concentration must have looked like worry because she tugs my ear.
Don't worry, love, I have enough
money to take us anywhere. Okay?
I nod. It isn't on my mind, but if
she's been saving up for this, then she must have had this idea for quite some
time, right? I wonder if I should ask. She's not good under questioning. She's
probably amazing as a spy, since she can evade and smile her way around
whatever it is that she doesn't answer. Why am I with her again? I guess I'm not
all that certain.
I pull into a motel when my eyes
finally squeeze tight for a moment that's longer than a few seconds. I look
over at her. She's crawled up in a ball, sleeping. She's in her shorts, and I
can see that
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