“Play
your cards right”, he said as he was putting his drink down. He admitted he
was fascinated by her confusion and indecisiveness. She seemed kind and fragile
but of a determined composition, her playful
mood was a lodestone to his attention. He wanted to protect her and to give her
a direction. He had wanted to squeeze her from the first time he set his gaze
upon her but only stifled a dry smile and a wimp-like handshake…she sensed a
promising game in his gesture but answered back in kind
sobriety and carried on grooving in the dj’s funky tunes. She didn’t play hard to get, she could just discern
he was playing the field. And bingo! She was right. Her friend warned
later on.
The codes she toyed with in the games
of flirtation were like dice on ice
carrying the experience of absolute chaos or sweet bliss. She wasn’t making it easy
in the first stages “Another one who wants to
play fast and loose”, she whispered to herself, as his excitement grew. He
didn’t feel that great on that night and normally he wouldn’t bother. But the
intensity between them ultimately brought him on a dichotomy; to either go for
it or let her go. The dice were loaded
against the second option, the lady was too lovely, and so he went for the
kill. She was hastily lured by his quirky
charm and the boldness of his approach; there was a sense of gravity in his
tone and a generosity of spirit in his aura hiding behind a well-preserved
youthfulness, the injured arm and the wrinkles notwithstanding. None of them wished
to loiter the sharing of a passionate night together, so they started making
out in the bar while their friends’ teasing curiosity played on their smiles. “What’s going on with these two like?”
“Come to mine”, he said and she, fighting embarrassment, agreed. “Score!” he alleged. “This isn’t a matter
of dominance”, she thought, but in their kiss they both understood they played with fire.
Venus, however, was playing her games once again, infusing with comical frustration the
shenanigans erotiques. They were put to
test while setting the rules of their
game back at his place, as if their spinning match weren’t good enough to enjoy in the raw. “Nice full-frontal
but let’s play it safe”, she
suggested, and he was blown a cruel joke.
“Plastic stinks! Plus I’ve been tested!” he cried, “but I haven’t…” she
answered back, “...and haven’t you heard the news recently? The economic crisis
has pushed many girls on the game you
know, I could be one of those… fancy gambling?
you hardly know me!” “What a tease…she’s
probably not that whimsical a character after all, and she likely needs to feel
more assured…oh yes the old game of
security and risk prevailing once again, or a sheer and distasteful
hypochondriac – well, it takes one to know one”, he assumed playing the guessing game and not enjoying
being beaten.
What a pity, they’d seemed winners but now were losing
points, cheated by the
circumstances. He couldn’t grab and toss her as he pleased; prowess seriously
wounded, right arm in absolute agony, yet the hard-on pumping strong. Insanity!
And she wasn’t putting out in his accord. Well, it was only their first night,
and this was not rehearsed, and he was a
player in defeat after all, alive
but not kicking. He became silent and shut down his physical expansion. “Maybe
next time”, he thought. Hopeless in his arms, “is this mind game, or is he out of his depth? He seemed to know the moves…I know his arm is
incompetent but can’t he try a few tricks
to light up the senses? Or is it me? Am I being too inert?” she wondered as she
was drifting off; luckily she was deprived of sleep two nights in a row. He
remained there anxiously lying in bed, breathing in the sweet warmth of her
skin, aching and suffering while the snoring of his drunken flat mate was
brushing up across from the living-room. “So much for the full house prediction of the week; I shouldn’t have bothered”, he
gathered. The next day they’d play it by
ear.
Petrina Cello
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