his muse … (2)

sarong4

She knocks twice on the door and walks in without waiting for a response. He is standing near the window and half turned back to see who it is. He knows who it is though. He only ever gets one visitor. And only one who would walk in like this.
She walks up to him with her fingers suggestively but nonchalantly tugging at the knot in her wrap-around. He smiles and motions her to the chair. She sits. Her mind starts racing. She places both hands between her thighs and crosses her legs.
She looks at him in anticipation. The sun has dipped below the trees lining the streets but there is still light. He is silhouetted against the window and her eyes follow his darkness. Tingling.
He brushes past her. She feels teased. When he gets to the shelf he picks out a sheet of paper from the scruffy pile. It has writing across the whole page on one side and is only half-written on the other. He folds the page in half, picks a pencil stub off the same shelf and drags his boots back to the window. In the fading light he starts scribbling. She shifts in her seat but maintains composure. He is done in a minute and straightens up somewhat and starts reading out his effort,

“she lies suspended,
a whore in the harbour lights,
the ship is yet to dock,
or it has sailed.

fuck with my father,
fuck with me,
fuck with my son.

spread your legs,
to angry men and frustrated women,
to horny youth and nervous girls,
irresistible as a glance at the macabre,
delectable as a virgin in bloom.

and now the frenzy,
feast of beasts,
satiety triggers hunger,
lie to me,
eat me whole,
now lie next to me,
beast by beast.

so now she lies still?
a temptress lingers on the harbour,
a whore to power,
the ship is yet to dock,
or it has sailed.”

When he is done he stands proudly gleaming with expectation. He tells her it came to him on his way home and he wants to perform it at The Book Cafe ‘open mic’ night. All she sees is his darkening outline. She shifts again in her seat.

“What’s a dock?” She asks plainly.
“Huh? It’s like a place where ships park.”
“But we don’t have ships here… we don’t even have a sea.”
“It doesn’t matter … that’s not the point.” There is mild irritation in his voice.
She shifts again and adjusts the crossing of her legs.
“So what’s the point? Come here…”
“The point is … argh, never mind.”

He steps over to her and places his hands on her shoulders and leans over to kiss her. She lets him for a few seconds and then turns her face away. She twists her face and pushes him away to stand up. She has a sinking feeling in her stomach. She has a vision of her husband.

“What do you know about whores?” She raises her voice not caring if the third tenant hears her in the dark silence.
“What? It’s NOT about WHORES!?” His erection does not handle the rejection well.
“So what is it about? Do you think I came here to hear your stupid story about whores!?”

His mind now takes offence and clamps his tongue. He just stands there staring at her fuming silently, trying to control his breathing and the blood throbbing in his ears. The rush of blood has her slightly aroused but the man in front of her is not the man for this. She sucks between her teeth loudly and strides out of the room adjusting her wrap tighter about her.

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