Overcoming Perversity

Or not.

I have a habit of getting bitten by my Muse during days significant in the Islamic calender I think. After so many months of writer's block, I thought I shouldn't let this opportunity go to waste.

It's a little trite. More than a little. But god, I'm so fucking rusty. I didn't think I had it in me to put words together anymore. So, there's that.

Eyes

Seduction is in the eyes. I used to think this was an urban myth, some silly story kept in circulation by the overly romantic. Until.

It was a party and I was having a good time. She was a friend of a friend and I didn't pay her any mind. She was funny and cute but it was a party and I was having a good time. Wait. I lied. So I noticed her. But we were joking and flirting, nothing serious, until her gaze caught mine. Caught, like a butterfly in a jar. I couldn't look away. Until I could.

I was flustered. My breath had caught for that brief moment. But I shrugged it off. There's nothing there, nothing. And I convinced myself I'd imagined it. Laughed louder and talked more and it was forgotten. Until she passed me the bottle and even though it was chilled I could have sworn that I could feel the warmth of her fingers on it still. Or maybe it was my fingers lingering on hers since she's caught my gaze again. This time it was worse. Her eyes were hotter, and I felt I was ablaze with want. I looked away again, terrified. Got up, went to splash water on my face, try to chase that heat away. I looked in the mirror, no one else could tell I was blushing. I hoped.

I came back to a room full of raucous laughter. The moment was gone. I was a little disappointed and a lot relieved. When I came back, I took a seat closer to her. The more fool I. I couldn't help it. I itched for her now. Fuck that, I burned. I fell winded, like I'd been running. Everyone could tell, I was sure of it. I flushed to think of their eyes on me, but I had eyes only for her. She looked at me again, and smirked. This time I didn't look away.

Was I making a fool of myself? Probably. Too much influence on my system. The only courage I had was liquid. But my body was aflame. That look in her eyes, it made me forget to be sensible, if I ever was. I wanted her. I was hoping that she wanted me too. So I held her gaze, and walked out of the room, heart pounding.

With that smirk still on her face, she followed me out.

Guest Author: Sweat

I might be suffering a prolonged bout of writer's block, but I would never deny you fiction.

My friend Sarah, whose writing I enjoy & respect recently wrote a little piece of fiction, and I was lucky enough for her to let me host in on my blog. Enjoy guys, I know I did.

-DeeDee

Sweat

"He wasn't my first love. He wasn't even my second." I said. I took a long drag from my cigarette, forgetting I had quit the night before.

"What was he then?" He said. He paused, then asked "Did you even love him ?" His voice contained... something. Something unfamiliar I couldn't figure out.

"Of course I loved him. If I didn't do you think I would still be here, doing this with you, all in an effort to try and get over him? To try and drown out the sound of his laughter with the sound of your breathing?"

"I guess not," He said. "Why him? What was it about him? Why can't you just forget him?"

I sighed. "I don't know. I don't know where to start. It's difficult to talk about, I don't know how to explain him to other people."

"Tell me how you met, and we'll go from there" He said.

"But I thought we were going to..." I said.

He dismissed my question with a careless gesture. "Don't worry about that now, we can get to it later."

I brushed my hair out of my eyes, leaned back, and remembered.

It was really hot that summer. The heat had flowed in thick waves of frustration. On a whim, and in need for some change, I had gotten bangs that week. They would hang there, dark and heavy framing my eyes. Looking back, I suppose they were a social canopy of sorts, an ebony barrier meant to intimidate rather than intrigue. They had looked out of place and uninviting between a sea of highlights and curls, but I liked them and that was all that mattered. The only problem is that they would get in my eyes, and so I'd have to push them away every few minutes. That's when I first saw him. I wasn't even looking, and yet there he was.

He was your typical guy. Nothing about him caught my eye, but as these things happen, our gazes had met and it had felt like the only introduction we needed. I suppose I'd held his gaze for a moment too long, because I knew felt something there for a moment. I like to think we both had. Some cosmic connection had crept in underneath my clothes and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Just like that, I felt light-headed. Not thinking anything of it, I pushed my bangs out of my eyes for the last time that day and made my way home.

"So that's how we met." I said.

"But that doesn't count! You barely glanced at each other, you didn't even speak!" He protested, confused.

I could sense he felt some sort of betrayal. He had been expecting a passionate exchange of sorts, some sort sexual tension that sparked off this love affair. He wanted to hear me tell him it was extraordinary, to ease his own mind. He needed to know that I was hung up over something magnificent, something he couldn't dismiss. What he needed, I couldn't offer.

I shrugged "Bad beginnings make for happy endings, I guess." I paused. "Well sort of. Not in this case, but you know what I mean."

"I'm not sure I do," He said.

End of Part 1

- Sarah