Deceptive Desires (Edge)

He; Deceptive Desires

We shared one last cup, steam rolling up from the coffee, filling our nostrils with the breath of morning. We talked quietly, speaking in turns, gently polite, lightly attentive.

He arrived early, by twenty tiny minutes. The slender thread between us dissolved, discernible and definite. Rising emotion and panic caught in my throat, briefly. Swallowing it down in a hot sip, blinking and putting myself on stoic "hold," you saved me from speaking (and revealing a cracking voice) by offering him a cup, which he declined.

Self-starter that he was, he directed himself to the hall, where cardboard boxes stuffed with your belongings were stacked in columns. He began taking them out to his green Chevy pickup truck, leaving us standing separate and alone, finishing our steaming blend, a lingering moment in the tattered aftermath of our broken relationship, with me begging crumbs from your table. In my mind, I asked you not to go, yet the strained silence remained. You noticed and nervously cleared your throat as you set your cup in the sink.

I turned on the radio as soft background to fill the awkward space. You turned away and began to check for things forgotten, as I deftly slipped your favorite shirt of mine under the fresh laundry in your basket, exchanging it for a soiled one of yours. I knew that, later, I would torture myself with your scent held tentatively to my mouth and nose.

He returned, asking if that was the last of the things to go. You smiled uncomfortably and nodded, indicating your box of CD’s and notebooks. He said he would wait for you in his truck. His step was light and carefree as he walked out carrying away your music both prerecorded and written. I glanced after him, knowing that later, he would have you, or at least that physical part of the surface you, but he could never have or know the part of you that was mine… your secretive dark heart.

You threw your arms around me. I held you back, whispering; "Should you ever need me…"

She; Deceptive Desires

She took her coffee brown, no sugar. On this terrible dawning, she laced hers with Irish Mist, an occasional morning treat that tantalized her nostrils with its delicate aroma. Not strong enough to kill the fear or dull the pain of longing and regret, she added a shot of Jameson’s. She offered him a pour from the bottle, which he politely turned down. Apparently needing no external support, she envied his strength.

As tears welled up in her eyes, she turned away, hiding her weakness, under the guise of getting a spoon. She set her cup on the spotless counter top stirring her coffee with one hand, brushing the telltale tears away with the other, before turning back to him and their small talk.

She gave the impression of listening, but her mind slipped back to the night before, when he had come to the bedroom door to ask her if everything was alright. She had asked him to sleep with her once more. Closing the door and turning off the bedside light, he silently slipped into bed beside her. They fell into place so easily, as if no obstacle were between them.

Together they lay as spoons cuddled in a sweet pocket of warmth. She ached to smell his wonderful scent of aftershave tinged with mild salty sweat, but dared not move, lest the moment be lost forever in time. So she lay still, trying to capture the moment, to commit it to memory. She vowed not to sleep, but to lay awake soaking in every precious second of him. In the end she was betrayed by her own weariness as sleep overtook her.

Before she knew, the time had flown and the alarm clock sounded. He stirred, stretched, and rolled away from her. Getting out of bed, he left her, senses stunned and needing more.

Now here they stood on the cold kitchen floor; her moving help had arrived. She cursed her friend for being early, destroying the fragile time they had left. Her friend began to haul out her carefully packed boxes and her rocking chair, with deft and mindless movements. He was oblivious to her painful situation.

She wanted nothing more than for him to reach out to her, to take her by the arms and ask her not to go, to tell her he loved her. But then, he had never said those three little words to her. He found it hard to speak of his feelings. except for poetry and prose.

The silence prevailed until he turned on the radio. He fiddled with the buttons, adjusting the bass and volume. His face remained inscrutable. What could he be thinking? The time was passing so quickly and their time was slipping away!

Soon, her belongings were tucked neatly into the back of her friend’s truck, marking the end of their love affair. She could stand it no longer. She flung her arms around him, but he disengaged her, holding her at arms length, mumbling inane words of friendship…

He even denied her the bitter sweetness of one last kiss.


 

Friend; Deceptive Desires

On Monday she had approached me at work, asking me if I could help her move this weekend. I told her that I had Saturday free and wouldn’t mind. She was pretty and had long legs, which I had always, silently, admired. Our relationship was friendly, consisting of mild joking and cordial small talk. I wouldn’t mind getting to know her better, away from the work scene, now that her boyfriend was going out of the picture.

She was just breaking up with her live-in boyfriend of one year, and, from what I understood, he would be home at the time of the move. I thought this could be a sticky situation, but she reassured me that it was an amicable break up and they were ending on good terms. In other words, this guy shouldn’t be a problem. She said that she would have her things packed and ready to go by the time I got there; she didn’t have much furniture to move, mostly boxes of personal effects. She told me that she was moving to a furnished apartment. So this didn’t sound like it would take very long, maybe two or three hours, at the most.

When Saturday morning arrived, I had no difficulty getting out of bed. I’d slept in clean underwear, so all I had to do was pull on my jeans, sweatshirt and boots. In a hurry to get started, I decided to skip making coffee and I would stop at McDonalds for a to-go cup. This shaved a few minutes off of my preplanned schedule.

It was that time of morning when the dew still glistened on the grass, but the sun has risen high enough to feel warm on air-cooled skin, when I pulled up in front of her duplex. I knocked on the door and it fell open a crack. Announcing my arrival, I cleared my throat, called her name, and heard her response inviting me in. They were in the kitchen having coffee. It looked like I might be interrupting something, so, seeing a stack of boxes, I went for them, indicating I would start there.

While grabbing up a box, I noticed that she looked particularly hot in her tight fitting, faded blue jeans. The thin material of her pink blouse hugged the swell of her breasts. I didn’t get to size him up until I returned for another load. He was about my size and height, but I thought I had more upper body muscle definition. I could probably take him if I had to. So far, he didn’t seem to be a threat, so I continued hauling her things out to my truck. He had barely taken notice of me, except for the brief nod he made in my direction, and a quick handshake when she introduced us.

When I came in to see if there was anything more to be taken out, he seemed unresponsive to her as she came toward him to say goodbye. I decided to give them a moment of privacy. I muttered something about waiting outside for her and left the apartment. Leaning against the side of my truck, I lit up a cigarette. I didn’t have to wait long before she appeared. As I opened the passenger door for her, I noticed that she looked as if she were about to cry. My thoughts turned to what my next move should be and what comforting her might turn into…