The Veil

               Maggie, a consistent chewer, applying the same pressure regardless of the meals toughness. Steak or chicken, biting through; the muffled clicking of her teeth pushing thumbtacks into the plaster of my skull. Only when shopping will her index finger wander under her shirt, pawing for her bellybutton, finding its way to her nostril for a sharp wiff. I called this activity fingering her sweaty flesh pocket, never spoken outloud. In the shower, with loose hairs gliding along the stream of water flowing into her a*s crack, her index crusader assigned a more serious quest, plunging into the valley of skin, fishing out rewards. Again a sniff ensues, but for this; slower: relishing in the clean stink. After a heavy f*****g, my sheets sopping from her p***y, I laid my head on her upper thigh absent mindedly running my hand along the opposing leg, attempting one last shred of romantisicm when an appalling gesture birthed itself. A moist pop, a fiery plume like dropping hot wings into a swimming pool; she holds me by the hair, my crumpled body washed up onto the blistering, black sand beach of flatulence. My ex-girlfriend, my ex-standard: My thoughts of you in a shallow grave.

                -     -                                     -

            

               Everyone showed up in clicks or packs, bubbles of personalities blending to form a bath of barbeque, sweat, liquor and smoke of equal variation. I migrated to the backyard upon viewing pork ribs, vodka, cheetos and a cran-apple tequila cocktail spill past a pair of lips onto a pair of breasts.

              The corner of the yard had been transformed into a urinal with the name David spelled out across the bricks; wet, steamy and fuming. The letters morphed into illegible graffiti. I found myself standing next to co-workers. Our bodies close to a bonfire encirlced by rocks possibly gathered during a recent camping trip to the mountains; the green moss wishing it had the ability to retract into the stony pores to evade the flame.

               This girl Sarah, who became engrossed in a story about the "stacked" guy behind her at subway, gave me an opportunity to scan the crowd and appear part of the action simultaneously. I wanted eye contact, to be a distraction from those around my prey, a baited hook.  My every lusty desire rooted in a labrynth of masochism, advertising to the female masses a challenge, a conquest. My reality became harsh and brittle, for what I was looking for already found me.

               She, a manipulator, sent out turbulent vapor through invisible holes as if time were a sheet of paper that she purposfully pushed the tip of a pencil through. I saw a candle creating a distorted circle of light concealed behind a colorless curtain. A frangrance, undistinguishable but familiar, seeping throug the fabric. I craved to push aside this veil, but a black force, a wicked gravity, rooted all that is my consciousness. A finite, rectangular beam of light, shot and dispursed through the portglass of a projectors booth appearing behind and above my head, conjuring chains. Reanimated, metal serpents contricting my throat; I begged to be released from these biting coils.  Cold and headless, they brought me down hard, being controlled by a smirk forming harmlessly from the corner of her mouth. Then, a tap on my shoulder, Maggie.

               "F**k me," she whispered. Her legs spread wider than usual, slightly leaning forward. If her a*s cheeks were lips they'd be puckered.

               "F**k me," she repeated, twirled and stomped down hard, stumbling against me; laughter foaming and gurgling. Animalism.

               "F**k off." I say

               "Fine, Ill just f**k someone else."

               She wobbled away.

               I returned my gaze to the crowd and she, the manipulator, never appeared for the duration of the night, or the duration of my life; As a matter of fact or fiction. I never could remember. 

 

              

Author's Note

Give me your thoughts!! :D