Wicked Wisdom


Night Renaissance
February 25, 2010, 1:35 am
Filed under: Fiction, Microfiction, Writing

It’s after midnight but I’ve met you at the park, our park, for another one of our secret rendezvouses.

This makes the fourth time we’ve done this in the two weeks since we’ve met. You’ve made it clear that you’ll fuck me all night long but you’ll never be able to kiss me. You cannot kiss me, because that would be cheating.

You can kiss my neck, but that’s not cheating.

You can remove my shirt, but that’s not cheating.

You can whisper in my ear that I’m the most beautiful thing you’ve ever met, but that most certainly is not cheating.

You just can’t kiss me.

I push my hair over my shoulder and lower myself to sip from the fountain. I press the button and slowly the water bubbles up and then eventually becomes a constant stream. I close my eyes.  I always close my eyes when I drink, I consider it rude to do otherwise.

The ice cold water hits my lips and I open them slightly. I drink until my thirst should be quenched, and it’s not, so I keep drinking.

Suddenly I feel not the ice cold water against my lips but the warmth of his own. My thirst is quenched, and I open my mouth slightly once again.

And nothing will ever be the same again.

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