The city vibrated beneath me.
A lullaby of traffic sounds rose off the streets. I watched from above. A voyeur to life. The madness of mid-summer heat.
I love observing life from up here, my tower and haven. Life looked altered from this perspective; objective yet magnified.
And I wasn’t just watching people, not today, I was watching them. I watched as they left my building, walked across the street, put their headphones on and stared the journey to wherever it was they were going. That specific walk, a slow confident step, un-tainted by the world around them.
Seconds ago, they had been sitting in front of me, smiling, wiping afternoon sweat off their brow, sipping lukewarm beer and staring into my eyes with flirtation or courtesy, I couldn’t tell. I tried to get them to stay longer but offerings of food or more beer were of no avail. Was there something there, the abstract spark of attraction, an alchemy of hormones and desire? I don’t know but their absence got under my skin. Ignition of hunger. The afternoon stretched out in front of me. Boredom got me hard.
When I had nothing to do, no list to complete, no meeting to get to or life task suppressing me – masturbating won each time. A temptation to take myself away for a moment, take minutes from the day and mark them as mine. When I had nothing to do, fuck what the modern world offers, fuck working out, fuck meditation, fuck goal setting – I want pleasure.
There’s a glorious moment before having a wank of toying with the idea. My body two steps ahead of the decision, excitement and slight guilt, knowing that soon my mind would be in erotica and my fingers covered in me. It’s slightly heady, a feeling of two glasses down, a promise of the unexpected. The outdated forbidden-ness of it.
And there is something more enticing about fantasy than real life, more illicit. When it is only me, myself and I, then I can create what I want. No performance, no exchange. It’s all desire and no cordiality. I can bathe in filth or build on the mystery and games of seduction. I can have sex anywhere and with anyone. There’s no need to be self-conscious, it is sexual liberation, whatever I crave in the moment is mine.
And let’s get real, I make myself come like no one else can.
I know they would be great in bed though. There was no question. I heard a friend of a friend talk about a night spent with this person, it’s what piqued my interest. Well, not quite. I had always noticed them; friend circles crossing and would often find myself looking at their various social platforms late at night when a thirst for the carnal kept me awake. It was the way they moved, a magnet of interest, their green eyes and hushed voice. A mischievous smile, a devastating aloofness which crushes you with wanting more.
I stood back from the window, I was hot, and my body itched with a longing for sex.
I undress, lie down, and think of an alternative to the afternoon…
They are still here. We are sitting side by side. Effects of the heat and beer, I lay back, coiled up, my head on the side of the sofa. They sit forward, sit back, look at me. There is that frequency in the room, a reverberation of seduction, palpable. A distilled moment which hasn’t been acted upon but can no longer be ignored. It’s silent? Or maybe words are spoken but no one gives a shit as to what is being said.
Their hand smooths my hair. I kiss the back of it, softly, taking my time, my tongue moves between their fingers, my mouth slowly covering one completely. They shut their eyes for a prolonged second in pleasure, then stare at me while I suck on them. I move my mouth up and down, tracing their fingertip with the flicking of my tongue.