 When day is
through
I will come to you And tell you of your many charms (I'll be your Lover too- written by Van Morrison) Part Four Perhaps I wouldn’t actually say out loud ‘If I was to only have one fuck in my life I wish it to be this one’, that might be tempting fate, but that doesn’t mean that it wouldn’t be true all the same. Oh perhaps there would be nothing to compare with that first desperate fumbling, gasping time against the wall of the Bank, or the whole languorous night when he was hardly ever out of my body in the Royal Mail, Jerilderie. But I was young then. I thought I deserved it, that it was all just mine for no better reason than I was 20 and that’s what I wanted. Right now, I can feel the swell of him inside me, the press of his taut chest against my soft, loose skin and the strength of his muscles over-powering mine,. I can catch glimpses in that hazy lusty half-consciousness of his face, the half smiles and the curses and groans. And all the while I know that time stretches backwards and forwards from here, that the next moment he will be gone from me. Now I know. People talk too much about sex, add too much. Tie it up with god and souls and promises; taint it with jealousy and possession and power. It is nothing, and everything. Like holding Jerusalem. In the end it was easy, just Joe and Eva. He wanted me to touch him, and my fingers remembered all too well what he liked. Recalled how to run down his chest and over his hips and feel that silky skin of his cock in my palm. He wanted to get lost in kisses that didn’t know when to stop, feel my hands pull him further in, forget everything except fucking. What did he say before? Ah yes, ‘we are cut from that same dirty bit of cloth’ and he was right. He coaxed me from my new found shyness, prodded the evidence of good living with a grin, and gave me the gift of desire, or want, or need, or love, whatever you would call it, it doesn’t matter. Not really. He gave me himself. Sweet, sticky, exhausted, strong and raw. And now I am lying here looking up at him. His face flushed from the effort of it all, like he just woke up surprised from a particularly good dream. I can feel the hardness slip away while we both catch our breath. He is laughing a bit, his hand through his hair to scrape those curls from around his face as he flops down next to me. "Jesus..." "Yeah, and all the rest of them." Closing his eyes and blowing hard through his mouth before a grin lights up his face "Well Eva, for an old woman...." A yelp as I slap him on the chest hard and we are both giggling. There is a moment then that his eyes fill with something darker, that other world just creeping in, but I shake my head, don't. “Cheeky bugger!” "Thats what they say. Lass yer mind if I sleep a bit before…?” “Before you go” I need to make it easy. He doesn’t need my tears. “Aye, it's been a good while, and I don't want to, not really” I decide not to ask what he meant, it doesn't matter anyway does it? “It's alright Joe, you can do whatever you want. You can roll over and sleep and have breakfast in bed if you like. Everyday if it was up to me” Rather regrettably you might say for me, he pulls the cotton up and around his body but he is shaking his head in amusement “Now you never told me a fella got to have that too! I might have to come back on one of these so-called holidays if there’s breakfast in bed! Proper high rollers eh?” Hahaahah! But I can feel myself blanching as the thought develops. “That’s not funny Joe….no it is really not funny...don’t you even fucking think about it” He is still smiling, leaning over to kiss me just gentle. “I am kidding you Eva- reckon it might just give that heart of yours one shock too many eh?” “Well that’s if I wasn’t already pushing up daisies that is” I swallow with the truth of that. Sometimes it is just better not to think. With something of a sigh I let myself curl around him, my hand just soft on his shoulder, to watch him close his eyes and my pillow surrender to the heaviness of his head. The air stills and cools around us as he drifts off away from me. As his breath settles to steady I slip from the covers and pad quietly across the room. There is something I need to do before he goes. In the corner of my desk there is a small stone, nothing extraordinary but just from home, from my bit of the earth. It warms in the palm of my hand before I slip it into the pocket of the trousers which lie crumpled on the floor. I am not giving up on magic... I slide back beside him, slide down against his naked exposed skin, I will miss you, this, everything, all over again. But he mumbles in that voice that pulls every string, fuck the whole bell cord for that matter, “I need to get back Eva…a few more minutes is all, they’ll be wonderin’ where I got to” And I know that it is true, the only thing I can give him now is a blissful moment’s peace. Sleep tight Joe Byrne |