Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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The rains left the window screens spattered and dripping long after the storm passed, the humid air allowing droplets to cling as Marcus did to Genevive. Old friends, as they entered his place the crackle of physical chemistry seized them under the shadow-choked orange light spilling through the trees outside, shared experiences melting into greed for connection. Their lips met and Marcus felt a rush of heat to his head, mixing nicely with the whiskey and Genny’s subtle perfume. She tasted like wine, white wine and something sweet. Maybe friendship, he thought. Maybe she tastes like care and compassion, like nights up late listening to his droning on about this woman or that one or the hot August morning she helped him move out of Rayna’s. They kissed long but with reservation, Marcus’s hands staying in the small of her back at first but then succumbing to desire and sliding up along her sides, his thumbs at the sides of her breasts as she leaned into him. “How far would this go?” he wondered, worried by what this might do to their calm around one another. His mind arrived at a future with him sitting across from her at a table with their other friends, their knowledge of each other a secret reminded by lingering stares and furtive grins. Or maybe it wouldn’t be a secret. Maybe this was love he tasted on her lips amid the flora of wine. He kissed her neck and Genny exhaled, clutching his thick hair and pulling him down to feel his lips on the swell of her breasts revealed in the deep v of her button-up blouse. She had two buttons undone all night, a careful or careless invitation, and now he undid more, the orange from that streetlight and the shadows of those trees soon all that covered her. They fell to the floor, and their mouths, so used to kindness with words, became instruments of more intense kindness, pleasure and trust. When she came, she ¬†wrapped her arms tight around him and breathlessly whispered, “This… Yes. This,” hissing that last word as her body shook. Marcus closed his eyes and felt his mind drift off with that long sigh of a word pushed through clenched teeth. This, she’d said. This is where they belonged. (at This)

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