June 2005 - Jack and January's 'first time' - an excerpt from Unrequited

His eyelashes brushed my cheeks.
I nudged him to have sex all over again, the second time fiercer, and calmer too.  It translated into observational and hesitant to participate, but equally pleasure-seeking.  I didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world: not in Cabo, not at a party in the Hollywood hills, not in some foolish version of an upcoming heaven and not with any boy I had ever known or thought I loved.  Every second of this experience bonded me to him, as I forged a new plan, something to draw him in further.  Paramount cables bridging me to him irrevocably. 
When morning traffic traveled outside of his window, he gently cupped his hand over my ear. 
            “What are you doing?”  I whispered into the sheets.
            “I was blocking out traffic so you wouldn’t wake up.”

 Not knowing what to say, I said nothing.  Maybe saying nothing was sexy.  I attached the night’s highlights on every single leaf on the branch of a true love I developed.  The newly recorded unspoken, symbiotic, and totally freaking awesome beginnings of an un-love affair.  I did everything wrong before and from that moment on.  For a lot of moments on.

You make me want to pick up a guitar 
and celebrate the myriad ways that I love you

art: Man and Woman in Bed (Saint Cloud) 1890 Edvard Munch
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