Inspired by Albert Rasyulis

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I’m sticking to the bed, it’s so hot. It’s probably midnight. We’re all pieces on the same board and some of us are the King pins.

Celina interrupts my conversation with the ceiling. She’s appeared next to my bed and she’s just standing there as though she’s waiting for my approval. Her slip is a skin that’s plastered on her by what’s obviously cold water because her nipples are beaming mounds. She must’ve wet it and put it back on. “It’s the only thing that helps.” I can just hear her over the chorus of crickets coming from the the dark farm outside.

I let her lie on top of me and the cool is a welcome release from the heat. She feels my erection against her and sits up. A thin stream of water finds its way down the inside of my thighs. She’s running her fingers affectionately down my chest, but I can’t stand it in this sweltering and I take her hands off me. Instead, she puts me inside of her. I let her bring herself to orgasm and her body shivers silently.

This is what the week’s been like and I’m getting bored. We’re visiting her grandmother in Sienna. And I thought a trip overseas with the girl might bring it alive again for me. It’s just become a little too easy and I’ve only been seeing her for 6 months. It’s so obvious that she wants to be with me. She even acts like she belongs with me, like she knows me. She doesn’t know anything.

We’re walking to town, across the farm, and thank God a light breeze is blowing from behind us. There’s a little, dilapidated structure with half a roof and I’m curious. Celina follows me inside. A few chickens scramble past us, out the door. It’s an old farm worker’s quarters – one small room where they probably had to eat, sleep and shit. There’s a make-shift nest in the one corner and an egg is lying exposed. I pick it up and it’s still warm. It’s an invitation I can’t ignore. “Take off your dress.” Celina holds my gaze while she slips her straps over her shoulders. She’s not wearing any underwear. I can’t criticise her body. It’s perfect. I cup one of her breasts in my free hand and pinch her young, pink nipple. She closes her eyes and I can see the air rushing into her lungs. “Turn around.”

I bend her forward until she’s a table with a deep groove running down the centre. I crack the egg against the wall and let the golden eye slip out. It slides from between her shoulder blades to the arch where the groove runs the deepest. The sensation releases a broken breath from Celina and I can see she’s struggling to stop herself from wriggling. Goosebumps rise up on the skin of her arse. She’s already wet and I plunge into her, pulling her wider, deeper towards me. The yolk is still whole and it shudders while I fuck her. I’m about to climax and I pull her up from her shoulders, letting the egg trail down her back. Only when it reaches the narrow of her arse, and it doesn’t have anywhere else to go, does the yolk ooze through its skin. The yellow seeps over the base of my cock and it sets me off.

We rinse ourselves with water from a well outside. I know that look on Celina’s face. She thinks we’re closer now because of some meaningless act. She thinks there’s belonging, connectedness between us. She still has a lot to learn in life.

A black crow is watching us put our clothes back on from a tree close by. His eyes are black pools, too deep to see the bottom. There’s no reflection in them, even with the sun blazing down on us. What does he want? The pools are motionless, not even a ripple. “You’re nothing,” I tell him in my mind. “You can’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.” There’s a sudden splash of the bucket in the well and I’m distracted. I turn back and the bird is gone.

The next few days Celina is preoccupied with her grandmother and I’m left alone to read. I’m busy with The Sound and the Fury, by William Faulkner. I’m not actually enjoying it, but the cool of the house offers an escape from the rage outside.

It’s dusk when Celina comes into my room. “Nate, let’s go out. It’d be nice to see the town at night.” I’m stiff and lazy from being home all day anyway, so I strap on my sandals and we leave.

It’s still light when we reach the town’s walls. The curve of the gate we walk through reminds me of a high-back chair sitting in the warehouse, like the chair was cut out of the wall and what was left was this arch. It’s a relief to be surrounded by people I don’t have to or can’t talk to. Celina knows a bit of Italian, which makes ordering food and coffee easier. I’m happy to be oblivious.

We’re meandering down a narrow street and we hit a little square, hidden from the activity of the town. The only light is a soft beam, illuminating the cobbles in its reach. Celina is like a doe, light on her feet and happy before it gets shot between the eyes. She stops and turns to plant a full kiss on my lips and we’re standing making out until I notice a small, dark man watching us from a shadow. I stop Celina at the shoulders and tell her to wait there.

He can see me coming straight at him, but we already have an agreement. He knows I’m not coming to beat him up. “Parlo l’inglese?” From closer up he’s even scruffier and it looks like he’s had a few drinks. His clothes are limp and grotty. He replies in a smokey voice “Sì, little bit.” I continue to make simple sentences, with the requisite hand gestures. His eyes flit between mine and Celina, leaning against the wall at the other end of the square. He spits and takes out 50 Euros.

I fetch Celina, still very unaware of just how much she’ll do to please me. I take her by the hand and explain the situation on our way to the other end. “This man’s going to lick you out in that alley over there, while I look out for anyone coming.” Her eyes stiffen and cling to mine, pleading. “Nate, I don’t understand. Why do you want to share me?” I wouldn’t actually care if she ran off right now. “Don’t worry, we’re not doing this for free. He’s given me money.” Her eyes drop to my mouth and I give her a better motivation, cupping her jaw in both hands, the way I know people do when they love someone. “It’ll make me happy.” This straightens her up only slightly. She’s still reluctant, but she goes to him.

The mismatched shapes disappear into the dark, narrow alley and I watch for a minute while the greedy hands lift her skirt and fumble to find a place for his mouth. I turn my back on them and keep guard over my little experiment. The square has lost its last sunlight and the shadows are now deeper and darker.

A body takes shape from one of the streets leading onto the square and I hold my pose, watching it, waiting for its next move. There’s another one, from a doorway. I think it’s a woman, round and soft-looking. She just stays there in her frame, arms crossed, facing me. A rustle to my left makes me look and there are three or four men seeping out, I can’t tell. I don’t want to look around, but I have to stop anyone from interfering. This is mine. The shapes have multiplied while I was looking the other way and now the square has a ring of shoulders and heads along its edges. Their faces are veiled by the night, but I can see the dilated pupils fixated on me. I can hear my heart in my head. “I didn’t ask for this.” I meant to think them, but the words came out and fell on deaf ears. I’m just taking back what was taken from me. I’m not doing anything wrong. This is setting things straight, bringing back the balance. You can’t make me be weak. Who are you to try and make me surrender? I’m better than this and all the other crap. I don’t need her or anyone else to prove it.

Celina walks far ahead of me on our way home. We go to our separate bedrooms without a word exchanged.

All night I’m staring at those beams on the ceiling again. I see the faceless figures stabbing me with their glare. It’s not what I expected.

When the sun finally comes up, I pack and go to say good-bye to Celina. She’s asleep, naked in the lounge, on her grandmother’s couch. It’s a pity. She’s beautiful. I kiss her on the cheek and I really mean it.

On my way to the road, I pass the barn. There’s an old lady milking a cow and I put my bag down. Without even trying to struggle with the words, I hold her away from the teats and grab the bucket underneath. She launches into loud abuse I don’t understand and flailing arms I ignore. I fill my mouth with the hot milk until it’s too much to contain and it runs down my neck, under my shirt. I pour it over my face, through my hair, down the nape of my neck. I guzzle the white until I’m soaked inside and I can breathe.

The End.

 

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