Tales From a 24th

This is my own recreation of a story I was told of from my birthday on the weekend. Guess who.

The party is in full swing as I open the top of my tea pot and pour in a top heavy mixture that has been devised with only one motive. The four parts scotch one part dry is clouding my senses expertly as i stumble from one highly esoteric and slightly engaging conversation to another. This mad hatter theme feels incredibly natural as I feel I am already teetering on the edge of something and my mind will be the first thing to tumble wantonly into a dangerous unknown. I find myself talking about hair, or music or bodyboarding or girls until i feel my hand being swept up and held by something gentle,yet venomous. Something so strikingly her. In reality it is not even my whole hand in her grasp, but merely my little finger. Yet this is more than enough to feel her intentions with my conscious mind. She lures me away an attempt at playful banter that is so transparent that I almost feel ashamed of my willingness to reciprocate and the resultant lust that stirs within me.

We move away from our resent company with ease as the chemically altered state of everyones minds allow us to be temporarily alone in a sea of people. She talks and laughs as we move in a way that lets me known she wants to physically separate us from the rest of the revelers. She walks me into the down stairs toilet, where the smell is far from sweet and the tiles that were formerly white are stained off brown with the remnants of the debris that has taken a ride on multiple pairs of boots. The dirty surroundings are the perfect partner for the feeling inside my veins as she pushes her hand against my chest and I let her breath touch my face.

She leans in and kisses me with a confidence that seems to betray her fragile frame, but order is soon restored as she utters that she "was so scared of this". I play my role with a machiavellian ease as I tell her that I am scared too, scared of the future and how can this moment fit into the shards of our damaged lives. I lean in and take control, becoming more vigerous as i press our chests together and momentarily pull her hair with controlled violence. She pulls away and looks upon me with the eyes of a needy house cat and whispers "your a really good kisser". I nearly spew from laughter.