The Flame

His hand taps me twice on my left knee and then slides down to meet the other one in a clinch. He's leaning forward, staring at the ground, cigarette in one hand, not saying anything. But I hear.

I hear and I know what he's thinking of. The words "my wife" still float around my ears when I am struck with pain. I feel it. Him. I am inside of his head now. I hear everything. Not precise words, because one does not think in phrases. Thoughts are ideas and pictures and emotions. And I can see it all.

I can feel how the pleasure of working together again is slowly turning bitter. Once more we will say good-bye. I feel anger. Anger that despite being so shockingly alike, we are forced by nature and fate to collide and then keep at a safe distance. I can’t help feeling a thrill that maybe at some point the paths would somehow be pushed into each other. A thrill of both excitement and fear.

The truth of the matter is as follows: being anything more than what we are now would mean hurting people, people we care for, and even provoke irreversible damage. We could get fired. Well, I could. Because they clearly need him more. However, being anything less would hurt us. It already hurts sometimes.

I see the faces of others. I hear them talking. But they just don't understand. I have never met anyone with a vibration so close to mine. A vibration of mind, soul, body, humor, lust, desire. We do not talk. We fill in each other's thoughts.

And I feel sad. I feel his sadness. And I wish so badly for some disaster. I realize how terrible it sounds. But I wish I were attacked on the street and have nowhere else to go but to his door. He would open the door, and see me shivering and scared. We would go in, he would pour me a drink and then sit close to me on the sofa. I would keep shaking and he would hug me. His spiky, rough beard against my cheek. The perfume he never forgets to compliment me for enveloping him. No one looking or listening or plotting around us. No wife and no kids and for fuck's sake, no birth dates and ages. Just the two of us.

And then the kiss. Slowly, very slowly at first. Looking at each other and gently closing eyes as we come near. The impact. Each other's breath. Hands starting to explore, senses expanding, breath accelerating, and becoming a silent moan.

"What happened?" He breaks the silence and my line of fantasies looking at me, trying to figure out why I am so silent myself. But I can't look back at him. Because even though it's dark, I am afraid he will read it in me.

"Nothing," I say as I puff indifferently on my cigarette and blow the smoke out slowly, trying to control my racing heart and wash out the redness in my cheeks. I am glancing to my left but I can still see him. He's looking at me. His eyes roll over my eyes, down the nose, to the lips and tongue and get drawn into the cloud of smoke. He stares for a few seconds, and as though what he sees makes things even worse, he puts his head in his hands and lets go of an "Oh my God."

I know. I mean, I have no idea how we'll go through this. It's a thin line that if crossed will bring pain and happiness. How much of each? No, I don't know. All I know is that if we ever get to the point of having one too many drinks together, we'll end up shagging like some horny teenagers that we behave like. I know he's not a bad man and not a bad husband. But I also know he is untamed, he’s wild and unpredictable and impulsive. Independent.

And I? I would let him. I would bring the final spices to the show to make sure it happens. I want him. I want him to want me more than anything else. I need him to worship me for everything I am, to keep me in his mind at all times and in all places. I want him to feel my breath on his chest and my skin under his hands before he goes to bed at night. And I want all that knowing that one day I will get bored and leave. I do not want to hurt him, but it is too late for that. He got under my skin, he played with the fire. And now the fire will consume him and then leave on a gust of wind to burn someone else. I can not say how long our flame will live. But knowing me and him, it will be a hell of a firework show. Let us see what happens.