One shot
disoriented in the dark, his hand lingers on the skin before reaching the naked crotch, then rise again, hesitating, as if waiting for instructions. The search for her wet mouth, but she moves away, orphaned kiss touches her earlobe and in the wake of the excitement his body, turns his back, smooth and velvety blind in the grip of the knees. Her breasts swing and touch the lips while the legs are opened to accommodate the stretching sex. Wet slips slowly like a glove, testing the form, up and down, pushed long and hot, but just kicking it feels within himself in an attempt to impose a rhythm all its own, it seems to give up, almost stopping. He perceives his hesitation, below her calms down and left at the mercy all'ondeggiare, first calm, then more rapidly, sucking vortex bottomless and endless ... and then slowly back, exhausted and satisfied, like a jellyfish inert flow by the current.
When he wakes, he is not there. Soft light filters through the curtains and languid she gets up, opens the window, sits on the windowsill, breathe. He lights a cigarette and inhales again, this time with pleasure. One shot. The excitement of the night fresh and unconditional first and last. Without hope, no expectations and therefore without remorse or bitterness. Embrace fleeting, dim fog of alcohol and solitude, condensed in the pearl of the instant whim. In the distance, behind the rows of cypress trees, the steeple cuts through the purple sky. When I first arrived, he was given a tour of the cobbled village lanes and had led to the streets, and there was usually circulate in the square with the usual straw-bottomed chairs, the old men intent on ending trump, the lonely kid in the bunch and pinball of young people around the pool table. For a bit 'creepy had followed the trajectories of the balls, the second glass of wine had shifted his attention from the stains of green cloth to the ribs. She felt particularly drawn to a polished mix of multi-colored woven wood. Had approached indifferent and without looking at the stranger, had slipped the note into the pocket of the jeans of the hotel. Tonight , wrote midnight. not turn on the light. He was punctual. Silent. Discreet.
lights another cigarette, opens her legs and felt the breeze on bare skin, mottled pink dawn of the bites.
