Smokey

I stand in the doorway as my eyes slowly adjust to the dark interior. Smoke fills every inch of the place with poles glimmering in the fog - like beacons in a stormy night. A man with a tight black shirt with security across the back looks me up and down and tells me to enter. He resembles a former football player from a local team, but I say nothing. The mind is overwhelmed as exposed flesh is visible everywhere. It is hard to convince the mind that it is okay to look, indeed expected. I approach the bar to gather myself and order a drink - a six dollar coke never tasted so good. I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see my buddy. I relax, no longer feeling like a perv. He motions to a table near one of the stages and I follow. We talk about the game as our eyes survey the surroundings. My body jerks, startled, as a arm grasps my neck. An unfamiliar face is suddenly within inches of mine - selling her services. I refuse and she pushes me while strolling away - nervous laughter erupts at the angry woman. The main attraction is announced, we turn our chairs to face the stage as the show begins.

Sweat

I stand motionless as the breath forms in front of me and vaporizes. I revert to childhood and mimic smoking a cigarette, but the joke is lost as there is nobody to observe the gesture. The quietness is both alarming and relaxing. I step forward and feel my foothold give. My arms spring outward forming a lowercase t with my body for balance. I take another step without problems and slowly descend the slight slope of the driveway. The shovel glistens in nearby light as I approach the garage. I grab the red handle and turn to survey the work ahead of me. I reach up to wipe my nose with my shirt sleeve and my face is stiff. I pull the cap lower on my head to protect my ears. I reflect on the temperture, wondering if it is single digits. The shovel turns in my hand as I examine it. The broad blade of the shovel is positioned at the edge of the accumulating snow - just inside the garage. A tilt of thirty degrees is used as the shovel is pushed to the outer edge of the driveway. I stop again and examine the exposed concrete, a thin layer of ice remains, but it resists the shovel. I move to the next row, it is a wet, fluffy snow as I push the shovel with one hand. Darkness descends as I methodically make my way down the full length of the driveway.

Release

Your senses are overwhelmed as you take it all, the taste and smell so familiar yet so new. It is a body you’ve seen and touched countless times, but it never ceases to excite you. Your head spins with desire as you savor every moment. You trace the smooth curves with your hands and tongue - all the while keenly aware of their reception. You inhale the intoxicating aroma while traveling up and down. Your tongue gently touches the warmth - pure pleasure. Your grip is firm as your tongue gains momentum. The sound of pleasure echoes for everyone to hear. You twist and turn until the ultimate connection is made - gasping as your senses are overwhelmed. You slowly open your eyes and smile as the pushing and pulling is synchronized. Suggestions and directions are mumbled with mental notes of what works and what doesn't. The rhythm accelerates and the room is filled with the animal noises. You feel it approaching and you want it – nothing else matters. Your eyes shut as all energy is focused - both working toward the same goal. You shudder when it finally arrives, convulsing involuntarily. The bodies are drained. The eyes open as you return to the moment, sweat drips from your body. Silent smiles and affection are exchanged as the bodies relax with eyes slowly closing. What is better, the actual event or the anticipation?

Essay

Where to begin? I tear a sheet and drop the notebook on the floor. I quickly write my name at the top, but nothing appears. My thumb repeatedly pushes the head of the mechanical pencil with only a nub appearing. I turn the pencil and eyeball its point. A crude set of pliers are created with my hand as the small lead is released from the vessel. It is pushed to the floor as the head is pushed again. A sigh of relief is audible as an acceptable piece of lead appears. It points downward, locked and loaded, as thoughts are collected. I reread the question on the board - the messy letters spanning its green skin. Nothing, there is nothing as the argument from work continues to occupy my mind. I resolve to make her regret what she said, and wonder how he could take her side, but the stupor ends as I return to the small desk in the cold room. Snow strikes the window with the clock tower in the distance. I can't believe it is that late while returning to the task at hand. The words begin to flow with me the stenographer. I smile at the third sentence and continue to transcribe the flurry of ideas. The pencil stops after three paragraphs; a quick scan of the text reveals a good argument. The last paragraph is the summary with another smile as the pencil comes to a rest. I gently lay it on the desk and review again. The smack of the pencil on the floor is surprisingly loud. My arm hangs down as it is recovered, the eyes are upon me but I ignore them.

Water

I lean while pushing the lever forward. I watch it pour from the spout and wait the requisite minute as I was taught. My lips meet the flow head on as I let it run across them before opening my mouth. I slowly part my lips and it penetrates my mouth. It caresses my dry throat. I close my eyes and mouth and smile as the water continues. I push my tongue between the lips and lap at the water like a dog. I can’t remember it tasting so good. I lean closer and position my lips – like a big kiss except my mouth is open – to receive as much as possible. I feel its coolness travel down and through my body. I am energized and relieved. I release the lever and it snaps back into place. I pull back and wipe my mouth with the front of my shirt. I turn and survey the surroundings. I can’t figure out if running is a good idea.

Heavy

I brush its skin with the palm of my hand and quickly cover my mouth as the dust fills the room. The fasteners flip open with the familiar click. I stand motionless staring at them – pointing towards me. I have no idea what could be in the case. As I reach forward to pull it open, it hits me – it is or was her suitcase. I release the handle and slide to the floor. The tears flow as her memory returns. Her hair, those eyes, and the smile that made me fall in love over and over again. I sit on the floor as the tears roll down my cheeks. I lean my head against the bed and knock it against the case. That case, yes, I remember it, I had helped her pack for the trip. Yes, that trip. The trip was her last. She had been so excited to be going. She was always excited about something, and I loved hearing every detail of her thoughts. My senses explode as the pain spreads through my body – I want to talk to her again. There are so many things that I never got to say. The time passes quickly as I sit mesmerized, the darkness swallows me. I gather my strength and stand to face the dreaded object. I push the latches into place and lock it forever. My arm jerks downward as I pull it from the bed and drop it to the floor. One push of my foot and it disappears under the bed, her bed, our bed, but not my memory.