normal sucks

normal sucks

 There was no time to have a nervous breakdown so I had to find another way to fall apart. One idea was going numb, it was quiet and unexpected and not violent until the very end. I had tried that method but the end never came. Sun, fresh air and alka seltzer got me back to baseline. I began interrupting my mother during our long talks when she was the only one talking. I started pacing and thinking and talking to myself, which was much more normal-like; there were even five expressions for my face, all of them different shades of unrealistic. I could fall apart that way maybe. By diving into a fantasy. I did this for a while and I got bored as hell. I had begun to give up on ever falling apart in a way that was acceptable to society. There was even less time anymore for a nervous breakdown. I was walking through a strip mall with my head down, depressed, when I saw a dollar store. Well, the pavement in front of a dollar store where someone had spraypainted 99c in blue. I went in to press my luck. Every dollar store has something unexpected that you didn’t know you needed, and usually it’s not a dollar. I saw them and had to have them. The slippers. Blue, purple and white stripes. Fuzzy and open at the heels. My feet were aching in my usual black shoes with no support and black soles. I bought the slippers and put them on and went to work in them. Everyone was totally impressed. I’m not sure if it was the slippers, or the fact that I came to work in them. I didn’t really care, either. My feet congratulated the floor. It was totally unacceptable.

erotica five

They had hooked up before, you know. Just getting back to one another, it had been too long. They saw each other at the dollar store. They walked out that dollar store, each with someone invaluable under their arm. Each with one another. Hand in hand. Laughing. Invaluable kinda love. A dollar store’s wet dream.

The night began in the middle of the fucking day, you know.  Oh!

Light kisses on the insides of arms.  Pandora on the chromebook. Sad Flower, by Keston and Westdal kicked the whole thing off. Legs forming diamonds in the air, toes touching, knees bent. Arms just searching the air for a prayer. Fingertips gliding across the edges of ears. Acupuncture needles were threaded through, five on a side. Then Emiliana Torrini’s voice dripped out the speakers and filled the air. Set off goosebumps which got hard; then softened by each warm breath and whisper.

Then came the reflexology sessions, working the soles over and pushing the magic release of tension all the way up the spine by way of the simple careful pressure. Breathing got deep. And deeper. Then two bodies were like words, and freshly pressed.

This was not a test.

Four eyes met somewhere around five. Predawn. Just as they had put one another to sleep, the looking into one another’s yawning glass eyes woke them into the eternity that comes of staring into some soul for even one minute. Palms of hands surfed up the back of the calves, with sleeves of dragons fire biting the achilles.

Then a slow motion hyperventilation filled the room, synchronized deep breathing. Both women were naturally tan. One was a slender five nine. She did an extended child pose over the other, sitting back on her ankles in between the dragons, and pushing her upper body down and across the length of the other. And then the moment the deal got sealed: clasping hands  and way over their heads.

The one above had tresses of auburn hair, falling like flames over the shoulders and tits of the one below her with her boot camp close cut to the head. Their ribs fell into one another like a grill. The heat was fantastic in the predawn coolness.

The heat got spent in no time.

What was left, they took to the bank, by six.

By seven, they laughed it all out, side by side, in a milky way of sheets and blankets all mixed up.

Wonderfully spent. Came and went.

Spun out in a daydream. Pale and smooth faces, looking up like flowers to the sun.

They laughed it out at eight.

Oh, what a date.


-erotica, by Katya