The grip of lover is ever tight
She opened her eyes and looked at me. And I smiled. As she opened her eyes and looked at me, I could do nothing but smile.
In that moment, with our hearts racing together, with the slightest of breezes carefully brushing through the trees around us, I thought back to the fanatical drive of love that led me to behold such a woman with incomparable lust, a woman that could turn even the most dominant of men into dilating puddles. The memories, sweet as they were, flowed freely within my mind, reminding me how much we had been through and how far I had come to touch my angel, my weakness, my soul embodied, this incredible human with the staring eyes that could support entire worlds and the supple lips, just barely parted so I could see her teeth shining in the night.
I met her two months ago thanks to what can only be described as the grace of God. She was wearing a spotted dress that reached her knees. It moved ever so slightly around her legs as she shifted from foot to foot, possibly taking the weight off her uncomfortable heeled shoes. The small, black dots adorning her white dress were as hundreds of staining fingerprints, gripping the material with animalistic need yet restraining their force in a pledge of respect. Her blonde hair cascaded past her shoulders and towards the curve of her lower back, breaking just in time for her buttocks to stand bold and shapely beneath the dress. My eyes darted from her slightly upturned, button-nose to her dimpled cheeks and finishing upon those ample breasts. She was the portrait of eloquence, the poster for female ability, the figure of timeless beauty. And I collapsed to my knees. Here was an individual that could grasp me all she wished, drag me by my ashen hair across rock and mud, and thrust me upon the highest shelf within her confinement, a place from which I would have no hope of descending safely. From here, she could flash eyes at me, retrieve me when the pleasure passed her by, or simply deny that I was anything more than a trinket she had discovered on a walk and brought home like a rat acquiring useless items. And while she would make her decision concerning my purpose within her life, I would wait. I would sit on that shelf, brimming with joy that she had once held me in her arms as something requiring her attention, and I would wait until I should be needed once more. This was the life of a domestic, the world of an object, the entire universe of a man enslaved to a beautiful woman.
However, as she stood across the park in which I had spotted this muse for the premier time, while my own figure knelt upon the grass beside a bench that had previously held my tensing form, the woman did all but glance my way. Before I could muster the courage to make an approach, her grace was carried away by the winds of chance, blowing her out of sight and out of my life. I felt as a lost soul, desperately floating above the living as I searched for my forlorn body. The torture could be seen upon my face and it was all I could do to maintain a grip on reality. I knew not where that woman had come, nor where she had gone. Alas, I had yet to know her!, naught but the cream colored marble from which God had carved her face. And it was her creator that would bring the girl before me again.
Two days following the one-sided meeting which I cherished as a gift, she stepped into a shop that was already occupied by mineself. Oh, how that hair hung from her pretty head. And oh, how her boyish shirt and constricting jeans did wonders for a figure that needed little help. She stepped into the aisle in which I stood and looked to the shelves for some product unknown to me. She was doing nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that would distinguish her from any other human upon the Earth, and yet she was somehow the most precious creature that could have walked into my view. I prepared myself to cautiously approach this creature, so as not to send her running, and stepped heavily down the aisle as if I had reverted back to my preamble ways and knew not the proper way to walk. We were so close to one another, near enough for me to call out to her and request the touch of our hands. I wanted to feel the warmth of her skin. It looked so soft, so flawless, designed to perfectly fit between my fingers.
And then someone called out her name. Though at the moment, I had no knowledge that it was her name, but someone recited something so beautiful and poetic that it could only belong to her. To confirm my suspicions, the woman grabbed something from the shelf and then turned away from the aisle, hurrying towards the voice and disappearing once again from my life. No! She could not escape this time. I had lost her once and was determined to discover the true nature behind this woman’s radiant exterior. I would soon know where she lived, where my true love, Thalia, lived, and had officially placed myself upon a rocky path that would lead us to our moment of intimacy some two months later.
I stole to the front of the store and watched with sharpening eyes as Thalia and her companion escaped the parking lot towards their final destination. With the sands rapidly collecting at the base of a nearly empty hourglass, I leapt into my vehicle and gave chase, caring not about those around me nor the safety of my car’s contents. Drooping trees raced past my windows and angered honks faded into the background. Purpose held tight to my muscles like a small boy gripping a writhing snake that proved dangerous beyond conceivable doubt, and yet the small hands fought to remain clasped around the muscular body until the mouth reached around and sank two thorns into the flesh. The repercussions were not of importance for the mission had taken control over all aspects of the mind. Passerby may glare upon the scene with condemnation, stating to their obese companion that this was a sight of parental failure at its finest, a most deplorable display of dedicated depravity. And still they do nothing to cease the endangerment of someone beyond their care, watching the snake strike the child and sending a middle finger rocketing away from their hand in my direction, all remaining in the background for fear that the world may demand of them to do something worthwhile. It was this extreme apathy gripping the population that gave me power to race towards my goal as Thalia and her unnamed companion drove only a short distance before me.
After several minutes of what some would describe as dangerous driving, but what I would coin driving with passion, their vehicle pulled into a two story abode with oversized windows and untamed vines battling for coverage of the house. The home, large as it was, remained mostly obstructed by a thick growth of trees surrounding the front yard, eventually consuming the car as it followed the drive away from the street.
Having discovered their destination but unable to determine whether Thalia lived at this residence, I opted to park the car well out of sight and saunter down the street with every intent that this affluent neighborhood was a place in which I belonged. Perhaps I truly would belong here someday. Who’s to say the jaws of fate would not release me from the depths of despair and allow me to float towards a dream that only days ago failed to exist. I was destined to meet this woman, destined to learn every thought of her brain and every inch of her skin, leading us to a future together that was neither set nor terrifying. It was unifying.
Claiming patience as my middle name, I chose to take my time with this dream, ensuring that progress was taken in miniscule shuffles for fear of destroying my chances with this woman, though also for fear of the woman herself. I was nervous, as is understood, and strove to learn as much as possible about whom I was soon to court. And as my first shuffle down this path, I stowed away in the bushes and trees before her home.
From my spot of concealment, I was able to gaze into the windows (devoid of shades they mostly were) of the building and watch as my love went about her afternoon. The sweat did pour and my hands did shake as she danced in the kitchen to something unheard, and reacted with smiles to something unseen, and revelled in the excitement of something unknown. I could watch her every move, react to her emotions as yawns are contagious, yet longed to be involved in a life so overwhelmingly positive and enticing. How could she have been hidden from my grasp for so long? What would my world be if I had seen her weeks earlier, months earlier, or even years earlier? Could we be dating now? Could we be married! Expecting our first child! Oh how the possibilities seemed so wild and endless, each one with its own level of desire and distance. I was not there. She was not there. Our journey had only just begun and it was tasked upon me to merge these two paths for the sake of humanity. There would be no couple more beautiful and envied than us. Me and Thalia. I and Thalia. Mineself and Thalia. How we would hold each other nude in the night as two celestial bodies swirling around each other, the gravity pulling us closer and closer until we became one entity to be mapped and named by lesser beings as they marveled at the beauty of something they had only recently laid eyes upon and could little more than hope to understand.
As these explorers sought to advance their knowledge, I too needed to gain more information concerning the enigma that is Thalia. And so it was my mission as time went on to observe this delicate creature from a safe distance. I discovered what meals she ate and the books she read, what stores she frequented and the movies she watched. I saw who cut her hair and who washed her car, who cashed her checks and who sold her coffee. I learned where her parents lived and which friends she most enjoyed, where she worked all day and where she drank at night. I found out whether she liked sushi or played any sports, whether she volunteered in the community or watched musical theater. I uncovered how she folded her clothes and cooked her eggs, how she spoke to solicitors and cleaned the dishes. I watched as she washed her hair and fed her dog, as she shopped for clothes and went to parties. And I loved her as she fought through a cold and used the bathroom, enjoyed pornography and cried in her bed. This human being, this goddess trapped in a mortal shell, could do no wrong in my mind. I knelt in bushes and slouched in cars and hung in trees and leaned around corners to watch someone so incredible, so near to my heart, go about their day as if they were the same as everyone else, somehow never knowing that they were the most important person in the life of another. That was, until the first day we met.
I had been learning all I could about Thalia for nearly two months when this moment came. It was due to happen, I had been expecting it for weeks, yet the very thought of speaking with my true love sent knots throughout my body, twisting my tongue and wreaking havoc on my gut.
I was standing in the thicket of trees just beyond her front door, having watched Thalia’s favorite show through her living room window, something at which we could laugh together and enjoy together. When it concluded, I sighed with pleasure, hardly able to contain the ecstacy that had settled within my heart, when the door to her house creaked open without warning. I dare say I jumped, for Thalia typically relieved herself after a show and had altered her ritual to my surprise. It was a pleasure to see her, athletic shorts clinging to her toned legs and a graphic tee working to contain her braless breasts. She was so beautiful, so innocent, and she stood in the doorway as her dog skirted past her legs, skipping along the driveway in search of a place to pee. Charlie, as he had been named, was a loyal dog. Her parents had not been enthusiastic about her adopting the animal, something that Thalia found irritating, though confided in her best friend, Angela, that she had certainly felt overwhelmed when she first brought Charlie home. However, after having the dog for almost a year, Thalia felt like she had grown into a more responsible person and I couldn't agree more myself. She is thoughtful and caring, something that Charlie certainly deserves and that our children hopefully learn from their mother.
Suddenly, though I should say expectedly, the dog darted towards the trees behind which I was hiding. It sped across the concrete before reaching the vegetation and stopping a few feet away from me. Charlie cocked his head to the side and stared in my direction, seemingly confused about my existence in his yard. He did not bark, nor did he back away. He whined slightly and then turned around to look at Thalia for direction. I was frozen in fear. This was the moment. We were going to meet for the first time. Visions of our first embrace overwhelmed my brain, preventing me from moving a muscle and instead gluing me to the spot outside her house. These beautiful thoughts quickly morphed into our first kiss, followed by the first time we would lay together, and then they bled into our first home and our first child and an entire universe of firsts provided by the only person with whom I could ever imagine experiencing them.
“Charlie? What’d you find?” Thalia called from the doorway.
I was frozen, staring at the woman that would be my bride. She looked around quickly, having not seen me initially. The dog continued to point its muzzle in my direction, still working out whether I was to be treated as a friend or a foe.
Thalia stepped out of her house and onto the driveway, walking towards the dog as she spoke in a false, high voice.
“Hey boy. What’s going on? You smell something? You see a squirrel? What is it?”
The woman watched Charlie as she approached the trees. My heart pounded with each step she took and the breath escaped through my clenched teeth, blending with the soft breeze that rustled through my hair and lightly shook the leaves. Thalia crouched next to her dog and buried her head in his thick fur, kissing the animal in the process. My stomach turned for it knew that soon she would be kissing me with every ounce of passion and devotion that a person could direct at a fellow human. Though of course we would not forget about Charlie. He would be there with us, nestled between our warm bodies upon our bed, snoring as he does with utter contentment. Yes, this dream was only seconds away.
In one motion, she opened her eyes and lifted her head to look at me. Her mouth opened in surprise, her eyes growing wide, and I smiled. As she opened her eyes and looked at me, her hands shaking with energy as they gripped her confused dog, I could do nothing but smile.
Thalia = muse and goddess of comedy and idyllic poetry; idyll = poem/story of everyday life