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Why? Each time that dreadful question fills my mind, flowing from the essence of thought like a poisonous snake with but one purpose; to confuse and elude. Each time one of the five horsemen—why, where, what, when, who—gallop onto the scene, terror seems to follow in their footsteps. Great black horsemen with spears and bows, each one aiming directly at my mind, never missing their target, they overrun my heart with doubt and shred each thread of confidence I have with vigor. With each poisonous wound the venom of suspicion mingles with my blood. This venom was neither hurtful nor physically endangering but the mental frustration it brings is not worth the agony, especially if the source of joy is but moments away.

Her eyes followed me as I entered the room. The windows were open; sunlight filled the room when I’d prefer darkness, darkness to show my true intent, darkness to hide my blush. She was dressed in denim and a sport bra, her face was littered with the softest hint of blush. We kissed when on the lips, a friendly greeting we had picked up from an Italian friend, and I longed to make that kiss more than platonic. But as life should have it, the moment was over before I could taste the lip-gloss that shimmered provocatively. My tour across the room—a flower here a pencil there—ended when she pushed me onto the bed, spilling the picture box across the bedspread.

Spongebob smiled at us as he played with Patrick the Star so we decided to smile back as we sat on him. His yellow face was on the bedspread, testament to the child that still ran in her mind. Visits to Aruba; the rest-in-peace dogs; flowers underwater; the gang at the beach; many photographs that held dear memories. Life was flooded with these, beautiful and bountiful, but there was always one that had a special spark, a connecting node that activated when seen. A sunset in the background and the gang (and dog) in the foreground; that night had been most wonderful. On that picture my smile had been giant; I was smiling a thousand smiles, and my arms had been around her. That night had spawned desire.

"What's wrong?" She asked me the question without lifting her eyes from the current picture. She had been leafing through them and found another one from that night; her and I, arm-in-arm on the beach as the sunlight became a scarf upon our shoulders. She patted my knee in the oh-so-reassuring way, smiled with her ears—when she smiles her ears lift up slightly— and slowed her breathing slightly. Ok, maybe I imagined the slower heart-rate, but it did feel like time had crawled to a stop, and we were at some hexed crossroad were time flew by quicker and quicker until it become a standstill. Her hand lingered on my knee. It is said that each body has a unique energy pattern, and that is unique pulse courses our bodies constantly. When we touch our energy merges and becomes a sensation akin silk and thunder; therein must lay the constant use of the word ‘spark’ when talking about love. Her hand still lingered on my knee. For comfort we as humans naturally grab a hard part of the body and pat; the shoulder, the knee, the back, the thigh, and sometimes, just sometimes, if your lucky enough to find yourself lying on the floor, your ankles. But this was no touch of comfort; this was a longing touch, as if wanting something. Of course, she did just state a question.

“Nothing’s wrong”
“You sure?”

That night, about three weeks ago, had been captured in those two pictures. After our little photo session had ended we ended up around a bottle, singing and playing various games. One game involved daring people to do ludicrous tasks, but as the night neared twilight the game became more and more sexually geared. The dare game became the do game and you had little choice but to do what you were told. Now trust me when I say that I am not a daring person; I have yet to master the virtue of prompt action. After a deliberation of one breath they, the gang and dog, had decided what I must do.

“Ducky—that was my nickname—you must kiss your best friend.” Seeing that all of them knew my best friend was Alicia all eyes turned to her. They then smiled, all of them including the damn dog, and one added “Passionately.”

She, being my best friend, was decidedly not going to receive my attention in a sexual way. By Thor’s hammer and Andromeda’s Whip I would not be swayed. I would be a Greek temple, standing up to the ravages of time, colossi and titans. But then again, girls and friends have a ‘fun’ way of making people do things they originally weren’t going to do.

Quick thing about girls; Once they put their mind to something, they will achieve it. She had already made her mind to be kissed (or kiss me) and no subtle amount of words would make her ok become a nay. Doggedly she placed her face before mine and she would have kissed me was it not for my quick reflexes and spidey-senses. So each time she’d try to kiss me I would move to the side and give her a quick peck. Cute right?

Alicia wasn't content with me only giving her play kisses. In our stupor we had not realized the flow of time. As the night had gotten darker we had slowly but surely gotten tired. She used this moment in the starlight to push me against the sand. Her face became a siphoning force of light as her eyes illuminated by the starlight. We were laying on the edge of the beach, waves pulled at our clothes and sand found its way between our toes. She urged me to relax and let her hair loose in the same breath. The view of her in the shade of the moon was as relaxing as it was jolting, and I felt more and more inclined to perform my task. She grabbed both my hands, folding our fingers, and then passed her tongue across my neck. Shivers and shudders, shivers and shudders, the night had become a new color to me. Within the black I saw different shades of ecstasy.

A wave crashed onto her back and her lips crashed onto mine. We stayed in that position of lust for forty waves or more, not counting those that only crept up to our feet. Her kiss was like a forest fire, feeding on all oxygen in my mouth. She left me breathless: without a sane mind to express my own urges to her. Forest fires are known to burn all, without discrimination to those innocent or guilty, and at that moment I was neither. I felt like a lone being within a universe of speckled waves and salty kisses. Her hands were the calm winds after storm, playing with my ears, softly touching my lips and eventually combing my hair. It was a delightful moment indeed.

"It started with that one kiss, didn't it, "She smiled as she said this. I didn’t realize that I had not answered her, and I found myself in the same position as I had been earlier; Her eyes were still downcast, her hand still lingered upon my knee and I was still nervous.


------
Art is addicting, an addict am I,
truth is I, the truth am I, the truth a lie!


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Comments

The following comments are for "Alicia"
by Siah

Alicia
I envy you the seemingly effortless evocative beauty of this (everything I write comes out angry and ugly at the moment). this is a beautiful piece Siah with such wonderfully fluid phrases that undulate and gradually escalate the passion like mounting waves. Going to have to come back when I'm less flu-ridden, then I might have something useful to say, but for now you ought to know that this is gorgeous, a real luxury to read.

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: September 20, 2006 )

Alicia
I have to agree with Shannon on this the passion and the beauty of this is great.

( Posted by: wanda [Member] On: September 20, 2006 )





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