Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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Tanya sat by the window in a swirl of cigarette smoke and gray late afternoon light as an unwilling compromise between beauty and danger. She wanted to be danger, preferred that harder edge of her diamond looks, but even as he entered the room flush and sweating from the three flights of stairs in the hot hallway leading to her, she could feel her softness creeping back into lithe figure. Dwayne had been a sucker for her body and soul since high school and Tanya had played him like a church organ on Sunday whenever she needed a tough errand run. And now was a biggie, a grand hymnal she would have to bang out of him without remorse, and yet there were his eyes, so blue and open for her, and there was his smile, an aw shucks model that dimpled one cheek. Tanya knew she loved this big oaf as much as she could love a man, and as she snuffed the remainder of her smoke into a dirty ashtray, she smiled back at him feeling her reserve melt away. She stood. He stepped toward her. They embraced. He smelled good, like effort and trust, like a man in love. And Tanya suddenly realized that while she wanted to be rigid, cold and demanding, the only reason Dwayne kept coming back was her gentleness to him. He was a kicked dog, as loyal to the boot striking him as the person wearing it. And her attention, while it always hurt, was attention. Maybe she truly was cold, she thought as she pressed her lips to his. The biggest trick of an iceberg is hiding the threat from view, below the surface. They kissed and Tanya thought about how when she made love to Dwayne this time, it might be their last. She’d entered the lion’s den naked over the past two months and the only remaining move was to offer the beast fresh meat or be devoured herself. And while Tanya loved Dwayne, she loved herself more.  (at The Offering)

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