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"she has the slow sensation that he is levitating with she"
"are you tired?" you ask me. you're laboring my breath, head on my chest and curls smelling of jasmine and oranges. i play with the soft ends, separating them, coiling them around my finger.
"not yet. are you?" the room's a little too warm. heat clings to the curtains and bed sheets and swallows me up just to sweat me out.
"exhausted."
you roll over suddenly, off of me, and yawn. getting to stare at your back feels like another morning. like i could reach out, by your spine, and trace the splotch birth mark there to wake you up.
i fold my hands over my stomach and wait in silence for the start of your gentle snoring. that's when i take off, smoothing my shirt's fabric and using my foot to bring the heavy hotel door to a close.
i'm a child out after curfew, pressed along the walls until i reach the elevators, taking them all the way up to the sky bar.
jimmy is waiting for me in one of the plush lounge chairs. all dark against the velvet red. he holds his glass up in greeting to me — bourbon rolls like a tiny, caramel ocean.
"what took you so long?"
"robert had to fall asleep first." i sit down next to him, where our thighs touch, and he calls over a bartender. vodka on the rocks sweetened with cranberry juice; jimmy knows i'm picky.
these nightly rendezvous give us our night caps and the highs we need to get up the next day. like he's giving me a frightened chick to pet, jimmy clasps his hand over mine, setting the full moon pill in my palm. a sideways stare. we drown the bitter taste with our cocktails at the same time. he laughs, an awkward, light sound, and gestures outside to the veranda.
when i get high, it tingles my teeth: the warning sign of a panic attack, but instead of losing breath, my body seems to hold it in. i float.
down below, the car taillights wash the wet chicago street in red. jimmy told me once about being an observer instead of a participant and mentioned you, how you could learn so much more from keeping silent. on the balcony railing, i grip his hand. he returns the pressure and i wonder about you alone in your hotel room. you sleeping in an empty bed.
"i feel lightheaded," i announce. quaaludes spurred on by guilt. i remember, once, comforting you in the bathroom beneath the sink as you shuddered for home. we have a round love; it always comes back to moments like those. very close, reaching in and holding still.
jimmy helps me to his room and splays me out on the bed. i wait, as i waited for you to sleep, and watch him switch off the lights around the suite. when he crawls back to me, he's lost his shoes and button-up shirt. he glows milk-white under the moonlight.
we have slow, starving sex. i think of you as i entangle and compare the width of jimmy's shoulders and how he won't let me press his head to my chest for comfort. stubborn with a strange, shy pride. i'd fall at jimmy's feet if he wanted me to, shine the leather till my reflection glared back. that's not the way you'll have it.
in routine, jimmy wakes me just as the sky washes into light blue and sends me back to your room.
you're still sleeping, head tipped back and mouth open. i slip under the covers beside you and when you open your eyes, i'm where you left me.
"you smell like a man," you laugh, face in my chest.
"'cause i need a shower. join me."
we strip in the bathroom. i want to tell you i like your body as you blabber and struggle with a pant leg. under water, we lather. you giggle and i play you for a fool.
{writing feels very difficult lately and i'm struggling to get out of this voice and mindset that seems to weep its way in. if you have any requests, preferably for anything sappy and sweet, please lemme know! <3}
