The Faithful (part1)Submitted by Spam at 2016-04-22 03:19:29 EDT
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On the train it’s clear that James loves Kiki, even before I ever meet her. It’s in the way he talks about her.
I smile at him pityingly, a mix of envy and compassion. Doomed. You only ever thirst that hard for something you’ve never tasted. Or worse still, only tasted once.
I’m happy when I first see her at St Pancras. She is so fucking beautiful, so completely perfect that I don’t need to worry about things getting complicated between the three of us. Way out of my league, son. You can kid yourself that anybody can have anybody else in this world if really you want to, but if you actually want to survive, you’ll learn your station in life and set yourself some reasonable limits. Don’t waste your time dreaming about the unobtainable; Just find yourself a level and do the best you can within that. Know your place. I am suddenly very proud and respectful of James; he’s done well to have flown so close such wondrous sunlight, understandable that it may have singed him somewhat in the process.
He introduces us and she brushes off my attempted handshake with an easy laugh and a deep hug. It feels so genuine that I’m immediately suspicious of this awful vixen.
But 5 minutes later when riding The Tube to the gig, she says to me: “So Sam, tell me what it is that makes you an interesting person?”
And it’s such a beautiful first question to ask somebody you’ve only just met that I can’t help but give it the transitory moment of thought that it actually deserves before answering.
“I tell stories.” I say. “And I try to tell them well… They may not be 100% true or accurate, but they are always interesting. I figure that's more important.”
She grins approvingly.
“That is a good answer.”
Yeah, give yourself a gold star. You’ve worked it out before I did, but not by much, because it’s only an hour later, when we’re alone in the venue waiting for the gig to start, that I realise that she’s going to be a fucking problem. The best kind of trouble you could wish for. But trouble, nonetheless.
“Did James tell you about my Thing” she blurts out sheepishly beneath veiled lashes.
I shake my head.
“Ecstasy,” She elaborates, not holding my gaze, “Makes me come. Spontaneously.”
And it’s so left of field and far away from the small talk I’d expect, I can’t moderate my response before it escapes my lips.
“Oh fuck off.”
All I can think about is the bomb of MDMA we each took just 30 minutes ago.
She looks suitably embarrassed and James returns from his piss-break before she ever gets the chance to expand the point. It’s enough though.
They go Hard straight away. Salva Mea.
I turn to James to find him already starring at me with a wide grin and joy behind his eyes. This is why we’re here. The fact that I’ve not seen him in ten years and we don’t really know each other any more vanishes. Instead, I remember the times we spent as awkward high-schoolers in his bedroom, raving the fuck around to this tune like a pair of twats way before we ever really understood what drugs and alcohol could do for music.
It’s such a fucking jock thing to do and totally outside of our character, but it encapsulates everything about the current mood such that, when our hands meet with an audible ‘smack’, any and all awkwardness about our time apart dissipates. We’ve both married and broken up since we last saw each other and he’s got two kids to show for it now too, but still, we’re a couple of teenagers in a bedroom again, dancing around to our favourite song.
It all makes sense and there’s nowhere else in the whole fucking world I would rather be. Nobody else I would rather share this moment with.
Kiki dances among the thousands, lost in the beat. James and I just nod our heads and smile blankly.
This is already fucking ace.
Richard, our fallen comrade who’s ticket Kiki took as a last moment replacement, texts me from his hospital bed.
****Incoming Message – Rich****
Fucking love you man.
It’s all so perfect.
And then Insomnia plays.
It’s too fucking much.
I may be typing this out for you right now, but believe me when I tell you that I’m no writer my friends, so you'll just have to forgive me my inadequacies when I say, simply, that my MDMA rush starts to peak here.
And if you know then You Know.
And I could write paragraphs here about being transported to another plane full of white light, unbridled happiness, the existence of a unilateral consciousness and the overwhelming and almost palpable joy of it all, but it would all just be Filler. Mere words. Unworthy and not nearly enough. If you’re unsure what I’m talking about, you should just try it for yourself.
And like I said, if you know, then You Know.
Kiki, all shimmery perfection, intrudes upon my vacant cogitations.
I grin gormlessly at her.
It’s all too quick. Her arms are around my waist and I immediately feel her start to shudder while in my embrace. Fuck.
I raise an eyebrow quizzically at her and her response is to somehow manage to look embarrassed, mischievous and apologetic all at the same time. But only for a second. Then, she closes her eyes suddenly and takes a sharp intake of breath and I understand what’s happening. She may not have been exaggerating before.
Her immaculate orgasm is one hundred percent genuine and almost as intense for me as it is for her. When the song hits its perfect crescendo, she muffles her groans by biting through my shirt into my chest and I draw her close to me and stroke her hair paternally as she comes. Her eyes never leave mine.
It's the most sensual experience of my entire life half-lived but still, my cock’s not hard because it’s not that kind of moment. Too perfect. All of the layers are stripped away between us until we’re just two floating points of melded ecstasy starring at each other in the void. Nothing else exists. We stand there embracing for a long time, naked and alone in the centre of a crowd of thousands.
I don’t know about the kiss until it’s already over. It last seconds. Decades. What does it matter.
I open my eyes again, weak of knee. She is dancing a little way apart from me and I’m suddenly not sure if anything really happened at all or if it was all just some beautiful dream.
I look to James for confirmation and his plastic smile is a stab at my heart. He emulates happiness with a rictal grin that might fool me were his eyes not a juddering abyss of betrayal and pain.
“It’s okay man,” He says, “It’s how she is. Don’t worry about it. “
And the heavy pretense that he’s cool about it all is so strong and well put together that its distance from the actual truth makes me sick to my stomach.
But I’ve been there myself so many times that I know instinctively that the most important thing I can do right now is hide the pity behind my eyes when I look back at him and nod.
The orgasmic embrace again. Our noses brush. Eyes locked.
She moves in to kiss me once more but I’m ready this time. Armed. A smooth, disingenuous slide of the face. A fake dance to the beat.
The bluff’s not good enough to get through though and the rejection on her face is devastating.
She slides away from my grasp and apologises, red-faced, avoiding my gaze.
It hurts. But I look over at James and remember the two kids in his bedroom fifteen years ago. Let’s not wreck this, it’s all too important. From nowhere, I hug him.
“I fucking love you, man.”
“Fucking love you too,” He Says. Meaning it.
It’s either seconds or hours later when she finally confronts me about it. Doesn’t matter which, the music drowns out everything outside of the Now.
“Don’t you want me?”
There’s a pleading air of hunger to her timbre that jars me and for the first time, I figure that there’s probably more to her story than the simple fact that she’s perfect and beautiful.
“It’s not that,” I say…
But I don’t get any further because she moves to kiss me again, needing it. And there’s nothing smooth about it when I jerk my head away from her this time.
She smiles, almost basking in the heartbreaking triumph of having caught me out, like she knew she was on to a loser before she made the move in the first place, just did it to prove a point.
“Then why do you move away…?”
False realisation dawns on her.
“Oh fuck. Do you have a girlfriend?”
It’s too easy an out for me to pass up and the lie bears such a resemblance to the truth that I know it’ll be an easy one to pull off, even in this state.
“Yeah. Well Sort of… My wife and I are separated but recently, we’re kind of… Well… You know.”
“So you’re just being Faithful?”
And the look of admiration on her face is so wonderful, for a second I really wish that I deserved it, that what I said were true, that this was the real reason I shunned her.
“Wow. That’s pretty impressive.”
Pointedly, she hugs James for her next orgasm. I watch him try to hide how much it means to him and when she kisses him immediately afterwards, I'm surprised that, rather than jealousy, I instead feel a deep sense of egotistical pride swell over me. I did this. It was a Good Thing.
Later on, unbelievably, she comes again. She’s too fucked up to know what to do at the time, so she just stands there between us, twitching... It’s too good an opportunity to pass up.
I move in front and embrace her. With my arms behind her back while she looks up to the heavens with a blissful groan, I signal to James to grab her from behind.
He’s not comfortable with it, but does so anyway. Our knees brush up against each other, Kiki sandwiched tightly between us. James raises an eyebrow enquiringly.
“Quickly dude,” I say, raising both my hands above my head with an evil grin. “Double hi-five me now… That way we can genuinely say that we Eiffel Towered her while she came in between the two of us… and how often do you think we’ll ever get to actually live that story with a girl like this?”
It’s a bold little jape that cuts through the faux-severity of everything that’s happened so far and he laughs out loud when he grabs both my hands. Kiki, beneath the arch in all her orgasmic glory, laughs also.
I’ll be honest, it was pretty fucking funny.
Faithless finish. I’ve dropped a lot more MDMA then everybody else so I’ve no idea how long they were playing for. Minutes, hours, days. Like I said before, what does it matter?
Kiki is in front of me and I can’t stop myself from instinctively grabbing her as the final notes echo through Alexandra Palace.
Her thick black hair, matted with sweat, smells unwashed and dirty. I breath it in. Mesmerising.
“I fucking love you.” I whisper in her ear. Already.
I pretend not to notice her jolt of excitement at my words.
“You can stay.” I breathe.
I kiss the top of her head affectionately but I can’t bring myself to let her go for a long, long time. She feels so wonderful.
They fall asleep snuggled up together on my sofa. His arms wrapped protectively around her. I slide my spare duvet over them, bid them a drunken and unanswered goodnight and stagger off to my bed with a broad smile.
As I drift off, I feel the sun leak over the horizon and stream through my apartment windows with a warming glow. Through the wall, I hear the by now familiar groan of Kiki’s orgasm and I know straight away that they weren’t asleep at all. Just pretending until I left them alone. Fair one.
I chuckle throatily to myself and give James a mental fist bump. Decent pull, that one. Good lad.
Sleep takes me and in my dreams I re-live our perfect kiss a hundred times from a thousand different angles.
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Submitted by Random Joe at 2016-05-01 13:28:18 EDT (#)