What happened and how it happened. An experiment, I guess.
An Outline of Progress
Over dinner you perform, strong and quiet, dusting her fingers, handling the check. Low laughter as you tilt the bottle, the wine a tongue that licks the glass.
Later, you climb four stories to her hardwood apartment, cursing your rapid breath, and once more give up cigarettes.
You press your hand to her chest. Your hand becomes a inhalation, gathering her silence into your own mute container. Two minutes, then she smiles, spilling the stillness as her scorching hand glides down your shirt. She unties the coiled knot of your erection, and you fall as one body, Siamese twins joined at the mouth, into the couch.
You wonder if she looked into those two minutes of silence, if she saw you as transparent as you felt, if she wanted you to see her the same way, but now is not a great time for questions.
(The contents of my head after reading another web diary. 9:30-9:46PM, 28 June 1998.)