Passengers

There’s already hesitation in your eyes as the car begin to slow down. I can feel it, your hand squeezing mine, the other on the steering wheel. Just a light clamp of pressure like that from familiar skin can say in seconds what hours of conversation may still dance around. I want to tell you that we don’t have to do anything. We can turn around and go back to our separate beds and sleep next to who we’re spending our lives with. The ones who see us every single day, even though we’ve become like statues to them: Something they easily recognize the cut angles and specific planes of. But, the inside is a mystery living beneath a surface that is durable, but cracked in places you can’t see until you get very close. None of the words leave, though, because I think we already know. We can pretend that the loneliness we share, this warped gravity that draws us towards one another, somehow lessens the severity of what we’re doing. That, maybe, we’re like objects on space that have spent years on a course that can only result in our collision. How much of that is true, that we’re an inevitability, I don’t really know. What I do know is that we have craved one another for a long time now. Only a few weeks have passed since we were together last. Every day and night since has left an ache in me I can’t stand anymore. Especially at night, when I’m in bed listening to the relaxed breathing of a stranger who has shunned my affections for too long. I never knew that kind of pain before, an awful abyss opening up inside from simply not being desired, regardless of what I tried or how much time passed. It’s a pain that made me retreat further into how much I long to see you. Just touch you. Be inside of you. I see the same ache in you as soon as we started going down the road. A longing burning in both eyes that only şişli escort we seem to understand in one another. One that only we know how to quiet. Your seem to sense this, how our need only swells more when we’re around each other. You pull off into a small trail we know of around here that goes on for miles, all winding gravel curves that dead-ends into virtually nothing, just a big stretch of forest and camping grounds where the road was never finished. Plenty of places like that around here, city projects waiting on replenished funds or developing subdivisions, usually. Places perfect for sneaking off to once you’re in a situation where you must seek out discrete locations. It’s surprising how many are out there. It’s like all these narrowing trails, incomplete roads, and solitary tracts of land exist for us at night, dark pockets of the world to hide in together where we can temporarily share our own little universe. Once we’re on the trail, the headlights barely seem able to cut through the black cold night. On either side, there’s nothing but the vague silhouettes of hills, skeletal trees that will remain bare for months. The shadowy outlines of their branches are like gnarled and thin monstrous fingers, some beckoning, some gesturing to stay away. Or maybe it’s just me. All psychological, the surrounding landscape taking on more ominous shapes the farther we drive. I squeeze your hand this time and look over at you. We’ve been silent most of the way. With no radio playing, we just share the quiet together, listen to heater’s faint hum, the whirling crunch of tires spinning along the gravel. I’ve always liked that about you, about whatever this is between us, that we can share the quiet together for seemingly endless stretches and every wordless moment is still somehow so comforting. mecidiyeköy escort And now, when your hand squeezes mine again, your thumb caresses back and forth, something you love doing. Those little gestures, like when we hug goodbye and your fingertips stroke the back of my neck or when we share a deep kiss and you plant smaller ones over and over on my cheeks and forehead. They’re all so much more than the words we can string together. Your hands, fingertips, eyes, and lips speak endless volumes to me. Countless intricacies and notes wrapped up together and passed along through your affections. Your thumb stops, hand pulling away as you slow the car down, reaching the trail’s end where the gravel pours out into a wide pool. Beyond that, nothing but tall and thick rows of trees towering over us like still sentinels. You cut the engine and lights off because, even though it’s highly unlikely, we don’t want to risk being seen by anyone who may drive through here or come out from the woods tonight. Once the vehicle stills, we become a frenzy of motion out here in the cold, moving to the backseat. Seeming to race one another there, clothes a whirlwind of cotton of zippers, your perfume furiously pushing through the air from your coat and blouse fluttering away, hair like a silk auburn curtain whirling in a steady breeze. It makes a flowery warm wind rushing at me through the freezing air. Each second I inhale you make my blood feel like low-burning coals run through my veins. Oxygen pulled into my lungs carries your essence in every particle of the air and is made to cause the heat in me to rise, to become impatient fires that will burn me alive if I can’t have you.We’re cramped in the cold space of the backseat, turning our velocity on another to help free us from what few articles of clothing we still have on. I hear and feel the metallic clinking of my belt being undone as I unclasp your bra. The belt sounds like a whip flying through the air when traveling away from every loop on my pants.The more of our bodies we reveal, the more the cold sweeps over our skin and into our pores. At the same time, there’s already a heat beginning to overpower it. Time always seems slow here to me, crawling between the moments of fevered initiation and joining. Those moments when one can still turn back, when we’re on the cusp of abandoning what control remains.Because I can map you, ignite and soothe all the soft places along your body, the delicate textures of your skin. The vulnerable slopes and valleys of your every curve. I just want to be what you need here. Don’t we all deserve that, even if it has to remain a secret? Someone we can lose ourselves on the surfaces of, in the folds of them taking us. I can take you, fill you to the brink of fire spilling through your being. I can gently caress and cradle you in the aftermath.Or we just snuggle in the backseat. Use our coats as blankets, stay sheltered in this steel and glass husk from the worst of the cold. Let the trapped warmth beneath rise the longer we stay, looking at the dark patchwork above illuminated by every still star.There is a need, though, radiating in your eyes, something you can’t fight or still long enough to understand. Some things need no explanation, no language to wrap around the fragile meanings of. There is a beautiful and dangerous simplicity in this, to want another so entirely. For the weighted consequences to be temporarily jettisoned off to some distant void in the mind where they will stay as small ripples we’ve grown numb to.Any second thought I may have had in the recesses of my mind are attacked and dissolved now by your lips almost furiously covering mine. As if you felt a graze, just a tiny wave of my reluctance and had to claim me before any other tide could sweep me away from you.