We were done with exams, and we went home to fuck.
The plan was not to make love–but to ravage one another. Leave marks on skin. Leave a trace of lust. She had gotten some Doves from her homeboy up in Washington Heights to make the night right. To rid our heads of exams, and life.
It was a cold day. Inferno hell cold day. The night was already beating down the day, bruising it. Making it ooze blood-orange out there in the horizon. The walk from the train to our shit-hole pad was unbearable. Air fleeing from the cold shot through my nose. My feet were starting to get suspect warm.
“Fuck, it’s cold.” Her words hung frozen in the evening.
“Like a witches titty.” I said.
We laughed out loud into the night, clinging to one another, dodging ice-patch islands along the way.
We poured into the tiny apartment. It never looked so good. The mess never so welcoming.
We added to it.
Frozen boots kicked off at the door.
Jackets fell like spirits leaving a body.
The thing with Joy was she was very particular when it came to rolling. Music had to come from a needle on vinyl. Lights had to come from candle fire. Tea had to be made, and mirrors had to be painted over, black.
She prepared the XTC.
I prepared the rest.
“Everything ready, baby.” Her voice soft like the candle lights.
“We are a go.”
The needle weaved Pink Floyd and we chewed away the day.
“Shall I have this dance, mon cheri?” I asked, pulling her waist into me.
“Oh, you know I love when you speak that poison.”
We danced. We kissed. We sweat. We drank copious amounts of tea. Rivers of it.
By the time we got to jazz the clouds were starting to breathe out snow crystals. Reflections had stripped away some of the black paint on the bathroom mirror, and drops of tears were pooling together in the sink.
She ran out the bathroom. “It’s snowing, baby.” Her eyes red. Mascara, now, looking like voodoo art.
“Let’s go.” I said.
We opened up the window and stepped out on the fire escape.
The air was cool, not cold like before. Lights bounce down the street dancing to the electric beat of the wind. The snowflakes felt foreign on my skin. Like I was being touched for the first time.
“Let’s stain this moment, baby.” She looked at me honestly for the first time in a long time. “No matter what happens to us, let’s always have this.”
I shook my head yes and kissed her. Feeding her snowflakes from my tongue. We held each other a while trying to imprint on one another. The snow coming hard now, covered us. Two moving statues trying to freeze.
She wanted her vibrator with her in bed. She wanted it buzzing on her clit as I penetrated her.
I licked up the pool of our sweat growing on her belly. I kissed her hard, with sweat. Lips. Tongue. I fed her me.
“I’m ready.” She said.
I rolled on my back. She straddled me. She could only cum being on top.
She started to ride. Grind. I started to feel her deep.
“I gotta pee.” She squirmed out.
“Pee on me.”
She stood over me and sprayed tea pee like a cat.
She jumped about on the bed. Stepping on my legs. My cock. My hands.
She slapped her pussy. Rubbed her clit as if rubbing a scratch ticket to find the winning numbers to life. She shook. The holy ghost was in her. She screamed. A scream I never heard out of her before.
One knee on the bed.
One on my ribs, breaking some.
Joy was sitting in the hospital room chair watching the morning news. I could hear my mother coming down the hall. Making a scene as only she could, “Where is my baby. Where is my boy.”
“You had to call her didn’t you.” I said to Joy.
“What? I was scared, you were screaming. You passed-“
“Mon bebe, Mon bebe.” She walked in the room arms opening for a hug. Her night gown still on. You could see the tails of it coming out the bottom of her coat.
She starts to sniff.
“What is this.” Sniff. “You smell like piss. Did you piss yourself.” She looked around the room for answers. “Well.”
“Sometimes you have to stain the moment, maman.” I said.
“Stain the moment? What is this philosophy?”
“Yes maman, it is philosophy.”