Dreams

Sex noir

She took my hand and I followed her through the night. It was cool and very dark, and we walked though islands of light cast from lamps high above. She spoke as we moved, trivial sundries, observations, all the wit and charm I remember. Her hair was different; shorter, straighter. She reminded me of Clementine from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. We wandered into a church, and began to fuck on a bench. She was strangely silent when I wanted her to speak, and quite conversational when I became frenzied with lust. And again, on some stone ledge near a vacant lot. Two men on the street - boys, actually - watched us enter (again, hand in hand) and began to follow. She turned quickly and said something cutting, words I never expected, and the boys fled. She undressed and lay back on the cool stone, while I stood. This time I could see her clearly, the smooth paleness of her skin, her stomach, her breasts, the hair arranged around her face. She was tight and not quite wet, so I moved slowly. She watched me, and as the penetration grew easier she began to sigh. Only when she closed her eyes did I close mine.