For Me

This one's for me, a selfish act, not something designed to please you, or to fulfil his fantasies, but just mine alone.

A perfectly judged sharp slap, time stops, my head empties, there's nothing but this moment, and the pure alert focus of attention. 

I don't need to make up a story if I don't want to, I don't need to entertain or impress, I'm serving myself today.

The sound of a voice caught between awe and laughter, sweet and vulnerable as it leads me into the darkness.

And yet, this isn't about me, I'm barely here, this is me looking out, me hearing, me feeling, it's about the things that take me away from myself, into something better.

The feeling of lips on mine, a soft connection with so much force hidden behind it, a tongue swirling around my mouth, merging, endless.

The sublime other.

Music that sounds like the universe breathing, music you hear with your body, falling deeply and safely, cushioned, protected, surrounded by something eternal and powerful.

There's no need to create a visual, this is a hidden world, an invisible world of sounds, sensations, ideas and emotions.

A smell like a drug, affecting without me being able to pin it down, nothing unnatural, almost imperceptible, I only know it's there because I relax, feel aroused, I'm out in the wilds yet finally home.

It's even beyond words, the language I usually crave falls short of things this overwhelming.

Being held in the perfect position, all aches and pains melt away, nothing matters, nothing can touch me here.

Buzzing

The music fills my head.  I'm drunk and alone, but the sound keeps me safe, fills up the gaps where fear normally hides.  I watch the band playing, fuck, I love musicians' hands so much, skillful, strong fingers, delicate one moment, flicking like a slap to the face the next.

He's got hands like that, hands that make me watch them, hands that smoothly pull my mind into his anchors.  I need them on my body so much it's like the air's made of aching for him.

I take another swig, let the alcohol numb my desire for a while, even though I know it'll just make it worse in a few moments.

There's so many people here I'd like to fuck, I let the music make everything seem like a film, at a distance, beautifully lit and shot, no consequences.  I smile at someone I half know, he nods back politely, can't place me and doesn't find me attractive enough to bother asking me to remind him.

I feel old suddenly, no-one's looking at me with furtive fantasies the way I am them.  Not even the balding guys with fading T-Shirts and beer guts.  When did I stop being someone that got chatted up at gigs?   I feel my eyes getting a bit wet and drink some more, I don't want to associate tonight with sadness, this band's amazing, focus on that.

Soon I'm lost in the drones, the feedback pulling at my body, slithering inside me, puppeting me with it's sadistic whine.  For a moment I think his hands on my shoulders are in my imagination, but then I turn and time slows to a perfect, endless moment as I look into his grinning face.

"I didn't think you could make it?"

"I skipped work early, I can always get them to let me go if I try."

I'm so happy I must be glowing.  We stand next to each other, moving perfectly in tune with the music, in tune with each other.  I'm buzzing, and nothing can hurt me now.