Yes You

A Story by Jess

Marshall and Michael take a ride.

The night was black. Across the sky danced a million shards of painted glass that cut my eyes. I wept from the sting of the wind, gliding through my skin like a rush of water; I slowly sank under it until I couldn’t breathe. I swallowed the musk of his cologne with spirited gulps until he filled me with his presence, a regal command of machine against God. I bowed my head in respect, leaning it comfortably against the coolness of his slippery jacket and warming it with the light of my soul. Scattered spritzes of his hair fluttered against my skin and I felt at home on the road, finally.

I watched the dots of the industrial earth morph into lines of neon light, reds and greens of shining tenacity and fairy-like whimsy. They covered me like blankets of snow on dying green grass, so cool and quiet but once were a frightening blizzard. And in the absence of protection I felt safe with my arms wrapped tightly around his waist, enveloping him in my love and devotion.

“Hold on,” he shouted eloquently above the roar of bustling industry and revving engines, and I did. I fell onto a border of sleep and peace, riding its coattails into the tunnel of artificial light that gave way to heaven.

I looked up and saw the clouds of God’s deception wrapping me in gold. He pushed onward with delicate force and pounded away on skidding tires, running wild and faster than sound. It passed me in silver rings above my head, glittering in the stones of my eyes as they drank in fluorescence and graffiti on rough concrete. We were the only two people in the world and we ruled with the power of an engine and the grace of a song over steel. He loved me with the twist of a handlebar and I loved him back with the cushion of a leather seat.

The lights hung in the air like birds on a dewy morning wave, riding the tides of the wind in a “V” that opened to let a passerby course through on his everyday walk. The dark sank into my veins as we approached the gate of the world once more. It pierced my skin with fluidity, a drink I did not wish to take but it eased the downing of a pill that alleviated my headache.

“Let’s go back,” I whispered faintly, and the words broke against the power of the wind. The shards ripped through his ear and he slowed down to a crawl. A hurricane of beeps and honks devastated the stillness of the earth around us but he didn’t care. He didn’t care so long as I smiled, and I did.

“Go where?” he asked dangerously. From the corner of my eye he licked the corner of his mouth, uncovered by his plastic helmet. I started to shiver.

“Anywhere…”

And we flew to a sea of anywhere.

On the corner of love, to the avenue of temptation, to the chill of a boulevard, we drove past signs abound in the words of a place that did not exist. We passed bricks withered with a satin washed dullness, and licked at the cracks of sidewalks. We circulated the spirits of people without homes, and wished on a road for dirtied lines. It smelled of a melancholy fog and I breathed in the stench of being trapped in freedom. We turned a dark corner.

His garage door clattered as it lifted up, and I was perpetually stung with the feeling of standing still. It hit me that I may never feel as strong as I did when we drove through heaven, but as a cold hand engulfed mine I was dragged away from content and into bliss. The light was faint and it bleached the fiberglass walls with a serenity of the ‘80s. He pulled me into him and wrapped his stained knuckles around my dry hands tightly, closing me in and locking me to his touch. His sunglasses framed my face through a twisted glare, and I saw my worst fears in his twisted grin. I could smell the death in his leather jacket and the smoke in his hair and I collapsed under the weight of his intentions. He was a city bus and I was a taxi cab.

Like a feather his lips dashed so quietly onto mine and with grace I closed my eyes, feeling myself melt like sea salt. I gave him warmth and he gave me another shiver.

He lips clicked off of mine and with a rough grunt he pushed me against an open wall, sticking my body like paper to the cool surface that swallowed the chilly night. I was dazzled with stars in my eyes as I looked at his loud form for a moment, but it was gone the next when he pushed his lips against mine again. I was crushed under the utter softness, so fluid and surprising; I crumbled under him like stone walls of our heaven.

His hands cascaded over my body like rivers, pooling under my shirt and crashing like a waterfall up my body. I breathed in stale air just a second before a wave of another kiss descended upon my lips. His cold fingertips skidded across the skin of my hips and the inhibitions of a false garment faded away and took my vulnerability. Even disrobed I felt safe in his arms. I felt safe traveling down an unorthodox path.

I heard the cool metallic stretch of a zipper between us and my legs, milky white against his black pants, hung solidly against him. With his adventurous mouth licking against my lips I tickled my hands around his neck and perched myself up, waiting to be filled. His mouth dashed to my neck and I sighed, the warmth of him flattering the inside of my thighs.

“Michael…” I pled with a gasp upon first entry. He bit down hard on my flesh as his spirit rattled my bones. He pushed through me with spine tingling force and only when I felt blood rolling down my chest did I connect danger with pleasure.

There was a weakness to him. He found his strength in the depths of me, pulsing inside and being enveloped in the warmth of my body; a strength that we found with the stream of city lights.

“Wherever you go, don’t go too far,” he whispered against my hot skin as he poured himself into me, sweating a thousand years of manual labor for a concrete wall. I dug my nails into his back, void of a leather jacket, for some effect of emotional repercussions. My breath hung in silence and he tasted my faith.

“I’ll go as far as I want,” I tempted, looking into black spheres of plastic. He grinned.

“Not without me.”

And like birds we soared through the air of misfortune and sank in bliss, staring at the boundaries of a black motorcycle and the fence of nightlife.

“Never,” I whispered as he carried me through the quaint little home.

Heaven is not always found on the road.