We're sitting in his car at sunset looking over the lake near his office building, and the sweetest breeze I've ever smelled is blowing through the half-open windows. We're leaning against each other lazily, drunk on our own bliss. He's telling me about the time he stood at this exact spot looking over those exact trees at that exact sky, watching a space shuttle propelled into space like a ball of fire. The vapor trail, he says, lasted for hours, glowing even after the sun had gone. He's running his long fingers through my hair, and I want to cry at the beauty of it all. The sky is blue - ivory - no, clear, almost, and the clouds are neon, Warhol-esque replicas of clouds, really.
Now I'm telling him about desert sunsets, how the mountains look like cardboard cutouts of themselves, black sillhouettes against purple skies and orange clouds. Do you really hear coyotes howl? Yes, and they sound like puppies, yapping and howling, and sometimes you can see their eyes reflecting green in the headlights. He smiles and leans his head back and I sway to Remy Zero, softly singing about how it's my life, and the entire universe has just reached its own peak. There is nothing more perfect than this in all of time and space, not then and not ever again.
The jolt back to reality isn't pretty. We walk inside the empty office building, and the maze of cubicles bathed in fluorescent lights seems hellish after the heaven we knew, five minutes or a million years ago. The computers and fax machines hum, and my heart breaks for him because all this gray doesn't suit him at all. I tell him I'm going to sneak in and paint his cubicle, the night sky on the tiled ceiling and reds and oranges and purples and blues on the cube walls. He laughs, but I'm not really kidding.
When we leave, it's dark outside, so clear that I'm amazed how many stars we can see, even in the middle of the city. We're laughing at ourselves, and I lean over to take his cock in my mouth just to hear him sigh and moan. When I sit up we're already home and I've never felt so wanted in all my life. I ask him to keep me, and he holds me desperately, and we're in love and the universe is beautiful.
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Leaving again tomorrow, and won't be back 'til next Friday. Miss me!
Now I'm telling him about desert sunsets, how the mountains look like cardboard cutouts of themselves, black sillhouettes against purple skies and orange clouds. Do you really hear coyotes howl? Yes, and they sound like puppies, yapping and howling, and sometimes you can see their eyes reflecting green in the headlights. He smiles and leans his head back and I sway to Remy Zero, softly singing about how it's my life, and the entire universe has just reached its own peak. There is nothing more perfect than this in all of time and space, not then and not ever again.
The jolt back to reality isn't pretty. We walk inside the empty office building, and the maze of cubicles bathed in fluorescent lights seems hellish after the heaven we knew, five minutes or a million years ago. The computers and fax machines hum, and my heart breaks for him because all this gray doesn't suit him at all. I tell him I'm going to sneak in and paint his cubicle, the night sky on the tiled ceiling and reds and oranges and purples and blues on the cube walls. He laughs, but I'm not really kidding.
When we leave, it's dark outside, so clear that I'm amazed how many stars we can see, even in the middle of the city. We're laughing at ourselves, and I lean over to take his cock in my mouth just to hear him sigh and moan. When I sit up we're already home and I've never felt so wanted in all my life. I ask him to keep me, and he holds me desperately, and we're in love and the universe is beautiful.
___________________________________________________________
Leaving again tomorrow, and won't be back 'til next Friday. Miss me!
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
And thank you, dear.