"It's too fucking cold," he said, and considering his t-shirt was soaked with water, i didn't blame him for saying it.

But i did blame him for making me move. It was the first time i'd gotten drunk iin almost three years, and you could say it was as new as one's first orgasm. My legs were heavy, my head was numb, and i had this unstoppable urge to laugh at anything i saw. My boyfriend wasn't there that day - i really can't remember why, but i remember being irritated at him because he wasn't there, and suddenly forgetting about it the moment Kris arrived.

It wasn't supposed to be like that - i had three of my five guys over, as well as my girlfriend, the sexpot called Siri. Elmo, Ryan, and alex. I was showing off the persian kittens we'd just bought, and after calling my boyfriend and feeling annoyed that he didnt bother to come over, i knew this party wouldn't be a party without Kris.

So we called him. As usual, i had to spend over half an hour on the phone with him to hail a cab and make the long journey to my house. While the three that were already here obsessed over the tiny, fluffed-up persian cats, i gave him a multitude of reasons to come. He'll get to spend time with two adorable kittens, he'll get to go wild with us as we usually do, he'll get to play with my guitar, he'll get to do something with his weekend besides sitting around.

"I'll come if you can get me drunk," he said.

And come to think of it, that wasn't such a bad idea.

Elmo and Alex left us after a couple hours, leaving Ryan with the two chicks he'd had indiscreet wet dreams about - the same wet dreams he bragged about to both of us on seperate occasions. To him it never mattered if i was dating his close friend and she was dating a 19-year-old metalhead - his ADHD convinced him that he was irresistible to both of us.

And so, when he wasn't flirting and trying to get at us, we were teasing him into resistance. The green minidress i wore, with the combination of light and dark that you'd find on the shell of a ripe watermelon, only added to his behavior. He became so worked up he couldn't even be in the same room with us, and when Kris arrived, three hours after we'd called him, the first thing he did was bolt outside to the front gate and start attacking him.

He justified his violence with, "you left me alone with two goddamn vixens for two fucked up hours! I'm gonna tear you to pieces!"

Siri and i immediately joined in on the excitement. I couldn't explain the electricity that leapt through me when i knew Kris was in the building - it was a mix of excitement, and anticipation, and something much deeper than that. We watched the two boys pound each other from my bedroom window, and when they brought it through the front door, we bolted downstairs to control it. Promising to let them continue their violence once we were out of sight of my mother, they walked politely up the mahogany staircase, tense with the need to fight.

Kris, as usual, was playing the pathetic one. He picked up my female kitten and held it up for Ryan to see. "I has a kitteh," he said playfully, "so you can't touch me!"

The fight progressed to the point where Ryan had grabbed one of the chinese daggers i have on display in my room. His lack of rationality, naturally occuring due to his mental condition, left the three of us in a panic. We had to pull Ryan off of his victim and place them on opposite sides of the room. Kris sat with my kittens, laughing hard at the fury in ryan's expression.

We had no choice but to get them both out of the house, lest another fight begin. Because it's egypt and because i was in a minidress, i had to slip on a pair of jeans beneath it. And at the cafe, as we sat discussing how we'd get Kris drunk for the night, we felt devious and daring, as if we were doing something we were completely forbidden from doing. That's another huge change. A year onwards, i'm sitting in my room with a flask of scotch whiskey beside me, as if it's nothing, and i'm drinking from it, sip by sip, to ease the pain inside.

"Yes," i'd said to him as he sat across from me at the table, "i'll keep my promise and get you drunk."

"Ok, but cover up that damned cleavage, woman, i cant take my eyes off of it!"

The conversation made a complete turnover. If ryan said it, it would be one thing. But Kris?

One thing i hadn't mentioned in the previous post is that he is a complete and total retard - or at least, he was for as long as i'd known him. Everything was a joke to him - life, love, emotional bonds and work included. Up until that night i'd never seen any other side from him but the joking one, and i guess that while none of his closest friends knew who he was, he didn't know either. But it drew people to him - the fact that he was funny, and stupid, and physically attractive, and he didn't need anybody - just himself, his guitar, and his video games. But that attitude wouldn't be useful in the future - he'd never be able to walk into the real world the way he was, or he'd plummet to the ground. He had none of the valuable experiences, both bad and good, that i had. He'd never lost anybody and he'd never cared. An 'apathetic being,' he'd called himself. He was 'not meant to like things.'

So when, all of a sudden, the sexual side of me had hit him in the face, and he saw for the first time what everybody else was seeing, we were more than surprised.

Siri and i joked that she and Kris should switch places so only we could concentrate on each other's boobs, but the boys, of course, vehemently refused.

Ryan left before we got to drinking. He refused, saying that alcohol is a depressant and it lowers sexual activity. As if he'd be doing anything sexually active that night in the first place. -_-.

But it got kinda crazy. We each had a couple of 10% vodka pops, and all of a sudden everything began to come out. Kris threw up the pink beverage on my bedroom floor, and after siri and i cleaned it up, i came into the bathroom to see if he was ok. As he washed his mouth out, i pressed my front against his back and wrapped my arms around his waist. He smelled good - his cologne stuck to my nose and i became sweetly addicted to the smell.

"That's ok," he said, "Smell me whenever you want."

And i definitely did. What really thickened the chemistry that hung in the air was the way he couldn't keep off of me. He always had to have his arm around me, as we stumbled around my room. When the drunk began setting in, it was like we were in a completely different world, where every secret feeling and every secret story just didn't have to remain a secret anymore. Siri was still half-sober, because her tolerance is so much higher than mine - and she just had to take charge of keeping us apart.

"Lynn, you have a boyfriend," she kept reminding me, when i couldn't keep my head off of Kris's chest.

"I don't care!" i growled.

"Yeah, she doesn't care," he said, placing his arm around me on the bed. We were constantly slipping from the mattress, which was three feet off the floor and wouldn't be nice to roll off of. Siri would grab my legs, straighten them out on the bed, then place Kris's arms flat against his sides.

"What are you, a NURSE?" he kept asking obnoxiously.

"Yes, i'm a nurse," she said over the ridiculously stupid words that spilled from our mouths, "so do what i fucking tell you to!"

"But i wana poke her boobs!" He protested, as i turned onto my side and watched her lean over him and try to get him under control. "Hey, if i can't poke hers, can i poke yours?"

"Yes, you can," she said bluntly as she fluffed a pillow and put it beneath his head.

"Cool! poke, poke poke poke poke poke," he chanted, as he poked her the same way you'd furtively poke the mouth of a snapping turtle.

She sighed heavily. I can't remember what she was so actively doing most of the time. All i know is that kris and i were blurting out the most random things you'd ever hear, like little children that won't stop talking. The windows to my bedroom were open, and the guards were probably having a great time listening to what went on inside.

"What cologne are you wearing?" i asked, as i breathed his scent dreamily into my lungs. My head, of course, was once again on his chest.

"I dunno, it's in a red bawtle in ma bathroooooom," he sang, the same way he always does.

"Is the bottle red or the liquid red," i asked in awe, as if i was listening to god explain the workings of the universe.

"Ah dunno woman, dont ask me. Hey siri!"

"What?" she replied flatly.

"Is it the bawtle that's red, or is it, is it, is it, the stuff inside the bawtle that's red?" he couldn't hold in his laughter.

"It's the bottle that's red," she said. "And lynn, get your arms away from him!"

"But i like it here," i said, and Kris's arms tightened around me.

"I don't care if you like it, you have a boyfriend!"

"But his chest doesn't smell like this one, and his chest isn't the same. It's friggin hairy!!"

Kris began a laughing fit that didnt end and siri wound up storming to the door. "i'm gonna call your boyfriend right now and tell  him what's going on!"

"Fine!" i growled. "it's his fault for not wanting to come in the first place."

The second the door closed, we were off the bed and trying to get to a standing position. We stumbled so hard that we hit the glass off the windows and couldn't possibly move. It was march, and it was the middle of the night, and it was damn freezing. Siri had thrown water at us to wake us up, and that only made the cold air worse. We almost couldn't care.

We waited for her footsteps to disappear from the outside room.

“Okay,” he said, back pressed flat against the open window as we identified some sturdy and arm-level objects possible to grab for balance. We would need such things to make our way across the room to the door, “She’s gone now. Let’s get away from the damned cold.”

“Yeah, I don’t mind the idea,” I said, slurring my words as I reached out to grasp his arm and steady my weakened knees. The one touch was unusual enough for close friends like we were, but the way his now occupied arm fit perfectly against my chest was more than an anomaly, once the touch registered in our minds. It was one that could easily be shrugged off, though, because we were drunk, right? It was the alcohol that did it-that’s what we had constantly told Siri as our constant contact enraged her in her only half-drunken state.

“Here,” he said, curling his fingers beneath the belt of my jeans as he stepped behind me. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

“Why do I have to lead?” I whined without sincerity.

“Because I’m too drunk to lead,” he blurted out, giving me a small boost ahead that ended up with me on my hands and knees on the floor.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! You okay?” He asked gently. I dropped her head out of exhaustion as i tautened my muscles to stand, but he knew I was unable to do it alone and helped me up. “I’ve got you,” he said, and then we both looked across the floorboards to the door.

“Let’s do this,” i said with determination that was almost comical, because the task was so simple.

As we giggled characteristically, wenfound ourselves stumbling around the particularly large room, wanting somehow to communicate that this moment without Siri was definitely one to nurture and exploit to its very limit. As I grasped the edge of the dresser, doubled over, and reached to the cabinet for support, he trailed along behind me , having to grasp the belt of my jeans to keep his own balance. It became impossibly hard.

“Here,” I said, placing my hands flat against the wall and using my dulled and abnormally heavy legs to move towards the door, but not to open it. I turned and rested my back against it, and, his finger caught in the belt slip, he found it hard to take his wrist from its place. We didn’t mind much that my hip was against the very palm of his hand, though, and the thought was enough to throw us both into confusion. 

His lack of balance kept his head against my chest as he tried to steady his legs enough to stand, but his finger, still hooked in the belt slip of my jeans, made it very hard a job to do. We were both very aware of where his forehead was resting, and we were both aware of the pulsing desire that closed in on us.  “Oh god,” he mumbled against my idle ribs.

I giggled a little and slipped my hand beneath his arm to help him stand straight. “Work with me,” I said gently, raising him enough for her cheek to press against his face. He slipped and the hand on my hip tightened as the free one wrapped around my waist, and he laughed with me, my stomach muscles convulsing against his shoulder. Quavering for the strength needed, I hoisted him up with two arms around his middle and my own back muscles, and jerking him into an upright position, our bodies, as if fuelled by their own individual desires, were thrust together. 

He was breathing heavily by then. “Thanks, Lynn,” he said, and he used the rest of his remaining strength to slap a hand against the painted wood of the door, his muscles clenching down on his bones to gain steady ground, eyes squeezed shut at the challenge of the usually easy task.

Blindly discovering leverage for his weight in his other leg, he settled himself into a better position and the words “Too much Vodka,” slipped from his mouth. As I laughed softly in return, we could taste each other's breaths. I watched him, amused, our lips no more than a couple inches apart. He tried to straighten up, but it became impossible as his legs cooled and tingled and moulded, oozing, into the shape of the floor.

“Kris!” I gasped, trying to hold him up, but he stumbled backwards onto the carpet, and I followed close behind him.

I landed on his chest, faintly pressing the air from his lungs, but his reaction stated a far bigger crime. “Lose some weight, woman,” he said overdramatically as he coughed.

“Get some muscle, dickwad,” I said, my voice routinely absent of anger. I was unable to stand without support and had to roll off of him, but as I propped myself up by my elbows to straighten, worried that their force on his ribs would hurt him, his arm came around my waist and held me down.

Neither of us could really explain why he did it.

“Don’t move,” he said, voice slurred.

I rested my head into the crook of his neck, engulfed in his body heat and fresh sweat and energy, breathing in the scent of his Lacoste cologne.

“Listen,” he whispered, placing a hand on the low-cut top’s display of naked skin above my left breast, oblivious to the effort it took me to ignore the bombardment of unfamiliar emotion. 

“Listen to what?” My voice was constrained.

“Even dudes like shepherds or guys who work in shops would be able to tell if they fucking listened,” he said, beginning a drunken session of senseless droning. “Even desert men could tell… even a stupid doctor who knows, like, nothing or nothing about Womenz, would be able to tell.”

“Kris,” i said, one hand sliding up his ribs in a caress.

“OR, the schoolmasters. Fuckin CHRIST knows they all work and nothing else. That’s why everybody’s like… ‘what the hell’ when you see one of them in a store at the mall or something, buying underwear, and you’re like ‘you actually DO leave campus?”

“Kris,” I said, grabbing his shirt, the dark cotton warmer than I expected because it had been stuck wetly to his flesh.

“Or… I dunno… even ANYbody would know if they just listened…”

“Know what if they listened to what?” I whispered into his ear.

His breathing slowed again, and self-amusement from his own words died away.

“Never mind,” he murmured.

“What?” I asked slowly, so lethargic that even my voice struggled from my alcohol-thickened throat.

“This,” he said. “I can feel it,” he squeezed my flesh, devoid of the usual lust. “Something's wrong, but it doesnt even matter.”

“Nothing's wrong,” i said, smiling against his heartbeat. “It’s fine. But tell me what you were going to say.”

“Damnit, womanz, i'm not gonna tell you, okay?”

I giggled. "Why not?”

“Who the hell am I, the wise old grandma that sits on her rocking chair and just spits out random words of wisdom?” He lifted his head to look me in the eye.

I frowned at him. “No…”

“Anywayz, shut up, womenz, and stop lying about me being the grandma. I'm not talking!”

“Why not?” I asked lazily, struggling to sit up, but he pulled me back down. This time our foreheads met, and I had to struggle to move away.

But something new was there now. His lips were full, and supple, and close by. Closer than in reach. Just a single movement and i could already feel my tongue slick over the delicate, pouting mouth, taste buds caressing every crease in his skin. I wished.

And i could feel his silent persuasion, as if he knew what i was yearning, and he knew what was going on inside my head. His hands found their way down my back, over the sleek fabric of my tight-fitted top, until his fingertips first curled over the hem and brushed over my back. He felt the bumps of my spine and the muscles, and all of it was within his reach, or more than that. God, we could both feel something changing at the speed of sound. Everything was changing - neither of us would be the same again.

It was something that existed, and always would, but out of sight would mean out of mind, and those who were ignorant to it would all remain in bliss.

I sighed then, body sinking into him, arms limp as they lazily clutched his ribs. Every muscle relaxed then, and I could feel the tightened knots giving up the resistance, and melting into my bones, into their primary place, a liquid sensation. And with it, the emotions came flooding over us – we felt our desires become our needs, choked back on the rising and increasingly painful deprivation.

“Lynn,” he said, breath rebounding as it touched my lips.

“Yes?”

His fingers ran through my dark strands of hair and released them from their binding tie, letting the waterfall cascade freely down my back. His neck strained to lift his heavy head from the much smaller mass of dark brown, wavy, messy hair, and his lips lingered, only slightly touching mine, devoid of action. Eyes closed. Breath stopped. And I turned.

"Fuck it," i said, "i'm still with skander, you know."

"Skander?" He growled. "Fuck skander. He's an asshole that's more in love with romance than he's in love with you! He has an ambition to be your only companion in the world and all he wanted was to control you. You both aren't in love with each other - you're fucking in love with love."

What he said hit me like a bullet train. For a moment all i could do was stare at him, frowning, confused, wondering how an adorable idiot like him could know something even better than i ever could. He said in one moment what i should have said six months ago, when it started to get difficult.

And after i recovered from my surprise, all i could do was get up. This time, he let me, and he grabbed my hips to help me climb onto the bed. By the time siri had returned to the room, we were as she'd left us, my head on his chest, his arm around me. But this time, the cat was out of the bag, and the hidden feelings we'd harbored for months were now out in the open.

“That’s it,” she said as she walked towards us. “Kris, we’re going now, kay? Get your stuff.”

“He can’t survive in a taxi,” I moaned, wrapping my arms more securely around him.

“Yeah well that’ll have to do,” Siri said. “And let go of him, Lynn. You have a boyfriend already.”

“No…” Kris said. “She doesn’t… she has nothing like it.”

That couldn't be farther from the truth.

“Yeah,” I said, “and besides, he’ll never know.”

Siri's anger enflamed us when we pulled closer together, into each other’s warmth.

“Whatever happened to your car, woman?” He asked, resisting her efforts to pull him away.

“It’s in service, you idiot,” Siri growled, and she forced him from the bed while we grasped blindly for each other.

“Why cant he just live in my bed for the rest of his life?” I whined, letting my arms flop onto the mattress.

"Yeah, her bed is way better than the rest of the world, even if it's all wet, so why not?” He asked, reaching out for me.

 “Kris, stand up,” siri demanded.

 “I don’t wanna stand,” he declared as he leaned over the bed to grasp me by the hand, though the distance was something he couldn’t conquer.

 After much prodding, pulling, and arguing (not to ignore the drunken remarks in the midst of the chaos), I was lying on my bed in my ransacked pigsty of a room, propped up on the pillows, still in my tight fitted clothes as i watched them walk through the double doors to the hallway and begin a route through the expanse of my double floor apartment. I lay still, staring at the ceiling as I heard their footsteps disappear into the midst of the house, and waited the forty or so seconds it took to hear their voices from the open window as they walked from the open foyer to the front gate.

“Kris, shut up and come on," Siri said. I knew by the sound of her voice that she was pulling him through the front door.

“I don’t trust you,” he said in his artificial jokers voice. “Shoulda trust yuh? You gonna take me in a taxi an leave meh in a dump somewhere, ain’t ya, woman?”

 “No, I’m not!”

 “I wanna stay here,” he said. "this place is warm.”

“It was warm because you were holding another person, you idiot.”

 “Yeah but… oh, so if I do this I’ll get warm too! See, this house got everything to keep peopulz warm.”

 “Kris, stop hugging the gate and let’s GO!”

 He whined more, and I heard the gate click open and heard them pull it shut.

 I heard the rumbling engines of a lorry coming from somewhere outside, and the sound became constant as the vehicle lingered in its place.

“Siri, look… oh my god LOOK! There’s a lorry with a pictah of a MILK bottle on it!” He said in a hushed tone. “I bet there’s cows in there! Wahoo baby!” 

I rolled my eyes, but I was trembling with an attempt to hush my laughter.

 “HEY! Dude who’s getting out of the Cow-Truck! I need some milk over here! Get me a bucket and I’ll milk a cow for free! All you gotta pay me with is MILK, my precious fuckin milk-cow-person-dude! Hey! HEYY! Don’t run off! Come baaaack!”

I shoved my face into a pillow and laughed insanely as I listened to Siri scolding him.

 “If you yell at the fucking milkman ONE more time, Kris, I’m gonna take off one of my heels and poke your eyes out with it!”

 “Fuck you, you COW! You’re just jealous as fuck cause you don’t have four tits that spray milk!” 

“You’re a little dick, mother fucker!”

“Why yes, I did fuck your mother, just last night!”

Their voices disappeared as they proceeded down the road, and when they were gone, I sat up and looked about my room, from the darkened patches on the duvet where water had been thrown, to the curtains that had been hauled open and twirled up and tied into bows, to the items of clothing thrown all over the floor, and something caught the light on the floor beside my bed. I had to lean right over to reach it because the mattress was so high, and I held the cool metal plates in my palm.

It was Kristian's Rolex watch, silver and sleek with a dark face and gold watch hands and cubic zirconium studding every number for every hour. I observed the scratches on the surface and the fingerprints on the inside for a long time, and eventually closed my fingers over it, holding it to my chest as if his hand was there again, giving me the message that life as we know it was beginning to change.

 

there's some sort of parallelism in our lives after all. 12 years ago..it was a Tag Heuer watch for me... Thanks for dropping by and replying to my comments. Just wanted to let you know that I'll be here for you (i don't even know how!) and oh, about your response regarding my baby. yes, we were married and ready. But I disobeyed a nurse's advice and took a long car trip anyway...7 hours in the car and 7 hours back when we went to visit my stepdaughter. when we came back home, my baby stopped moving, the heartbeat was gone. it's a different situation from yours, but the feelings of guilt and self-blame...and remorse were overwhelming. And it happened when I was trying to visit someone i have grown to love, yet she's not my own flesh and blood. I thought I'd go insane with the war inside my heart, especially having lost someone who I could finally call "my own". and especially, knowing that there's no "un-do" button in real life. i'm having a hard time having a baby now but it's not even about that...or any future children. it's still about the one who i must have let down big time...but then again, I calm down (a little) with the thought that everything happens for a reason...and maybe it's really not meant to be. and yet again...i liken that frame of mind to candy that one hands to a crying child just to make her stop. i think this is the first time i've ever told anyone aside from my husband about it. anyway, i hope you're having better days...and keep on writing. you write really good and it keeps me coming back for more

and oh, have i told you...Cody admires me as he sits on top of my vanity basket in my bathroom, with his little angel wings, watching me put make up on when I get ready for work. Only in my thoughts...but it helps. A beautiful imaginary friend that not every 36-yr old has. Perhaps, not even imaginary at all...

Oh my god they were fighting? Girl, where the hell was I when all of this happened! Grrrr! Hahah. This entry had me in stitches. <3