four hours sleep isn’t enough when you’re losing your voice

Gord called today! Exclamation mark! He’s been discharged from the hospital and going quietly out of his mind. Seems he’s recovering fine from brain surgery, but he’s housebound for a week. I’m going to jazzercize over to Uprising Bakery and bring him something delicious with sugar on top. I’ve no idea what we’ll talk about, we haven’t seen eachother in over a year, we have no grasp of the other’s life, but somehow we’ll manage. We keep tabs on the others whereabouts, after all. I’ve lost track of his brother John, but I tend to run into him enough to spite that. When he was listed as a missing person, when the city was on alert for him, he walked up to me at Wreck Beach in the middle of the night and started talking to me before he knew who I was. His parents are another story entirely. I see Bob occasionally on the Drive and our conversations, though friendly, always peter out from the dire poison that is having utterly nothing at all in common. There’s a generation gap, a technology gap. My life is completely unaccessible. His mother, Francis, still talks with me though. Sometimes we’ll spend an hour on the phone together, chatting away about nothing in particular. It’s like being female gives me an in.

I’m pleased with how social I’ve been since returning. Last night I was up sharing music, swapping songs over the globe with Jessie, and Dee, and Joseph, until when I went to bed, I could finish a chapter of a book with the lamp turned off. My empty trip South seems almost unreal. Yesterday was a guest over, a movie, dessert, and Brians concert. (The movie, by the way, Alone in the Dark, is a good runner up to Teh Flim. It’s stunning like a big rock). Tonight is Robin‘s birthday dinner with family, Mum didn’t give me enough warning to plan involving anyone else, (though if you’re interested, it’s 6pm at Tafs on Granville & Robson, friends welcome), (I’m starting to think I live at Tafs, I left my book there last night and didn’t even blink because I knew I would be coming back too soon for them to lose it), then Silva is winning an award at the official opening of The Leather Loft. I’m going to have to remember to wear sparkly things under my clothing tonight so I can strip down when I get there. Tomorrow blonde Bill is due over after work, and Sunday is Ian‘s birthday Lazertag. I’m considering throwing together something more social for him on Monday evening. Sophie was saying she might bake him a cake.

for jelymo : swing into it

It started when she asked him to dance. Traditional dress ruched across her thighs, she was divine. He’d been watching her all night, high heels turning on the parquet floor like they were princess slippers made of glass that he could snatch up and claim her with. Her lips were painted red, rose red, sex scent red, crimson like her dress. He imagined the blush of her cheek under his finger and looked down again to her feet before saying yes.

When he took her proffered hand, it was like accepting a challenge. Her glance slapped him across the eyes with both feet perfectly planted. He guided her to the dancefloor, hips shifting to the music. The band was playing old blues tunes with a sad salsa twist. He was going to win this war. They stepped in time, in then out, a little turn to the left and here was a dip. She twisted like a flower following sunlight, she moved like beaded water rippling over rocks. She leaned in close and he caught his breath. In her eyes was flame, a promise of sweat in darkness.

The music shifted to something less demanding, more intriguing, more sensual. Her body pressed against his, his world narrowing to the sensation burning his skin. Hands met and twined, breath slowing deeper. A lower key on the piano and she slid across him with quiet desire, a flourish of finespun subtle touch. She regarded him under lowered lashes and he wondered what it was that was so illusive while lost in the slow shift of weight from foot to foot, her heavy limbed grace like she danced underwater. There was a mystery to her, like she glowed with some insinuating glamour.

The music was drawing to a close. They never said a word, but fell into a final set of steps and stopped, panting, frozen together on the last note in a complex arch of grace. The next song carried on but flowed around them. He felt alone with her, felt as if they stood in profound silence. There was nothing in the world but her breath.

He left a tip at the door when he collected their coats.