His dark eyes

Beegie Adair – Where Is Your Heart plays on the radio while I’m drinking my caffe’ latte. The gingerbread men cookies who smell of cinnamon and saffron are scattered throughout the kitchen, glued to the worktop, and some slowly swell in the oven.

My hands smell of spicy cake and my mind wants to remember that Christmas… I went out and it was snowing. I’m wearing a pair of skinny jeans and my dad’s wide shirt makes me feel sexy, in a way I’ve never felt before. I feel free and my slightly masculine walk gives me the feeling of happiness. It will be the snowflakes that I feel melting on my face, eyelashes and lips. I never leave home without makeup and without my red lipstick. I like it that way, locked in my world wandering free through the city.

I remember one day an old gentleman said to me: I don’t know if it’s the lipstick or your teeth are extremely white. Your red-painted mouth is beautiful. He was a painter and at that moment I felt the need to be painted with his brush. ..but I just smiled. My boyfriend was next to me and I certainly didn’t want to make him jealous again. And he was jealous of every little thing and jealousy is what I hate most in someone. I’m a free spirit and can bond only with free souls.

I never felt beautiful but I knew I was different, uncommon and that made me feel beautiful. I never relied on my physique, I knew I had beautiful eyes, beautiful legs, a beautiful butt, but I’m a different kind of sexy. I dress in a more masculine way letting out only a few feminine details for expert eyes. I hate to be liked by people who don’t get me, who do not feel me as I am.

The military boots were never missing from my wardrobe and transparent long dresses designed by me. I like to steal my brothers’ swathers or my father’s shirts, like now for example. Is below zero degrees outside and I only wear my father’s tight shirt and jeans that enhance my butt curve. And a fancy hat…

I like cold and winter is just magic right now. I really wanted to go out tonight for a long cold walk and thinking about him. With those black eyes and long curly hair and his barely visible beard. It reminds me of the old courageous warriors who made me dream while I read stories of war and courage. I know he’s not thinking about me right now. Why should he? We chatted together a few times until late at night and he always told me about her. Holding me in his arms to warm me like a friend and with her in his mind. He told me about that night when they slept together naked with a flower in the middle, looking into each other eyes. And there my heart began to tremble, I felt it beat hard, my hands began to sweat and I felt a pleasant pain that enveloped my whole body. I just thought: that girl with green eyes and red hair must be so stupid to not want him. And I kissed him on the mouth. I didn’t want him to forget about her, but I wanted him to notice me at that moment. I needed to feel him with me there as we listened to Eric Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight song. That feeling he loves someone so deeply kinda excited me. I didn’t care about that, I did not felt jealousy, just amazing feelings about his soul and a deep energy flowing. I just liked thinking about his feelings for someone else and feel him there with me. In his eyes it was also love for what we were living.

Because there in his friendly arms on the back seat of his car, in front of our school, I felt beautiful. Beautiful because he had revealed such an intimate thing to me, without being afraid of his feelings and weaknesses and it was so incredibly powerful and romantic.

Even now walking with this unbuttoned blouse which can unveil the curve of my small breast, thinking of him I feel beautiful. I just wanted to see him and wish him well. And what better way to look for it, if not in the bar most frequented by rock community from the city. The bar was called Shogun and was very small, located upstairs in the attic of an old ‘900 house. Japanese paintings and drawings on the walls, but now that so many years have passed, I don’t remember them, I just remember I like to be there, listening good music and drinking good wine.

The bar is full and I don’t know anyone. I enter in and go straight to the bar and order a mulled wine. With the cup in my hands I look around for a free table hoping to see him. I would never sit at his table, but alone knowing that he would notice and come to me to say hi as he always do. He seemed quite protective when sees me around alone, as a brother and a good friend. My hobby to walk alone during the night..

He always kept me company and then accompanied me home. And sometimes we used to chat for hours. But now he’s not there and I’m sitting alone at a small table sipping wine that smells of cinnamon and cloves.

-to be continued-

The train

The train sped fast through the fields now green, now yellow, now into the woods. Tired of reading, the two friends get up and heads to the dining car. She is already there sipping a tea, on her lap an open book, a voluminous book.

A quick glance and the three become friends. They start chatting about more and less. Another 5 hours and then their journey will take different paths. Now they’ve moved into her compartment, they keep talking and joking about everything. About the fat, mustachioed guy sitting in the hallway, about the nun who went to the bathroom first, passing in front of them.

At a certain point everything goes off, she no longer hears anything, she looks at the blond guy mouth. She just wants to take the courage and kiss him. But she is afraid, afraid of rejection and what his best friend will say? He is also cute and they laugh at the same jokes, but he is not looking so intense at her. The whole world revolves around that mouth, that source of pleasure. Still stuck, reality begins to take shape again, the sounds become muffled at first, now everything is back in place. 

They keep laughing and talking. They look like old friends, but they’re not, they’ve known each other for just an hour. 

The same thing happens to the blond guy: he loves the rebellious curl of her. He would love to move his forehead with her hand, caress her. But it can’t, what sense it would make? Stupid rationality mortifies itself. Most of all he is amazed by her personality, so opened and fresh and she communicate with such a natural easiness. He just realise his best friend looks at her in the same way, but he is admiring her body and obviously he is very phisically attracted. Is true, they laugh at the same jokes and sometimes they touch each other. 

Now they have stopped playing, they have started reading inside, they are talking about their fears and their desires. Secretly the three of them they feel the same attraction and they want each other more and more strongly. Their eyes rest on corners of the body unknown to them. Cravings go up, but no one makes a move. 

Time is running out, another hour and they will have to separate. Of course, the social media accounts will be exchanged with the promise of keeping in contact and seeing each other again. But they already know that it is not easy to understand. They must live and enjoy every single moment. The blond guy takes all his courage and with an excuse manages to hold her hand. A strange sensation envelops them, as if they were now dancing together among the meadows that run fast beside the rails. They take a long time to leave the contact, strange but pleasant. 

“I want to kiss you know” she said. A slightly blurred smile on his face makes all the desire vanish in her. But he approaches. They finally kiss. A long warm, soft, deep kiss. They stay that way for a while. They detach, they look at each other and don’t say anything anymore. 

She takes the hands of the other guy and put it on her breast, there near to her heart. They both smile and he approach and kiss her neck. What si that warm sensation of completeness that surround her entire body and mind? 

Not they are all three together on the same part of the coach, holding their hands and smiling. 

Their story began and ended on that train, their lives as travellers for who knows where they intertwined, they shared the freshness of life.

– Le trois graces (@entreluietmoi)