The Dove Keeper

Beauty and Freedom [3]

Gerard's tongue danced inside my mouth, almost like it was trying to fly away with the bird in the apartment. We had drawn our bodies closer together, face to face, lips pressed and hands wandering, groping gently the other body that was so new, and yet so familiar to both of us. Our lips came together peacefully, the action set in our minds and no longer foreign. There was a calm and relaxed pace to it, and eventually, we stop kissing, and pressed our foreheads together in an act purely intimate, concentrating on something deeper. We breathed contentedly with each other, the hot air coming out in bursts and hitting our skin, noses rubbing together sometimes, causing smiles to glide over our faces. 

"I want to try something with you, Frank," Gerard mentioned freely, moving his head back from mine slightly. The dove was still flying around her confined freedom, and we were still getting used to our own. The somber and philosophical quality had vanished from Gerard's voice, a mischievous and childlike grin left in its place. 

"What's that?" I asked, his smile infecting me like a disease that I did not want treatment for. I had not seen that smile since this morning when he told me of the new rule to the apartment, and I wondered where it would take me this time. 

He grinned again, the wrinkles in his face growing deeper. He took his hands off of my waist and cupped mine in his own. I smiled and sniggered as I let him drag me forward into another idea that was beginning to come forward from his constantly thinking head. He took the blanket I had dragged out only moments earlier and placed it on the ground in the centre of the room, where most of his painting supplies were. He backed away from it for a while, looking down and judging if it was in the right place as he twisted his lips to the side. He moved some of his panting supplies out of the way while I just stared at him, a nervous smile on my face.

"Lay down," he finally instructed me, motioning with his arms over-dramatically. 

"Okay..." I uttered slowly, getting to my knees and then laying on my chest. 

This better be good, I thought to myself meekly. I noticed my hands tremble as I placed them down on the sheet, supporting my weight.

"No, no, no!" he objected right away. His voice made me jump, even if he was only joking. I looked up at him and he shook his head, a hand on his face, overextending his mock disapproval. I was back to being a naïve young teen in his mind. 

"On your back, face up," he instructed again, demanding in an impish manner. "I want to see you."

I smiled with him, laughing off my nervousness that had suddenly returned. God, he wanted to see me a lot. I didn't think there was that much to look at anymore, considering I had been naked since late morning, and he had just seen me in that moment of weakness – as he called it – not too long before. I figured soon he'd grow tired of observing every inch of me and finally beg that I put on clothing. But of course, the artist never begged for anything, so, I flipped my body over again. 

As I laid down looking up at the ceiling, displaying myself much like I had on the orange couch earlier that day and feeling my heart pound inside my chest, I heard Gerard digging through his cupboards. They weren't his normal cupboards where he kept his paint supplies, but the ones closer to the now empty birdcage.