Marc+Alice RA

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Royal Astronomy, early on, the second date or what have you...

Marc + Alice

Sunday night. Ten fifty. Kicking out time. We’d spent a good part of the afternoon in a little pub not too far from where she lives, but we weren’t drunk.

‘Come on, drink up please.’

‘We’d better… y’know. Let’s make a move.’

‘Okay.’ She says finishing her drink. I pass her her coat, the leopard skin and leather affair that she wore on our first drink. She smiles at me in such a warm way that I want to hold her. With her being so much shorter than me when she looks up at me her glasses reflect the light. Her smile makes her look so sweet and delicate. I could never hurt her. She makes me so much want to a so much better human being. All this in the half a split second she threw me a smile. I put my coat on.

‘Would you like me to walk you home?’

‘Would you like to?’

‘Um, yeah. Yes, of course. I don’t want you getting murdered in the eye or anything on the way back. I wouldn’t want that on my conscience.’

‘Okay then.’
She leads the way out through the door and reaches backwards to take my hand without even looking at me. It is snowing slightly and I think that it might be the best night in the world.

How has she impressed me? Let me count the ways. She is a published writer. Albeit in an almanac. She smokes foreign cigarettes. She drinks pints. She speaks a little Welsh (can count to ten). She is funny, beautiful, intelligent. She stops on the pavement and releases my hand. My heart ceases its ridiculous little dance and she lights another of her Spanish cigarettes.
‘It’s quite slippy,’’ she says wrapping her arm around my waist, ‘help me find my way.’
My heart lifts and again and I fear that she will ask, ‘What is that awful thing pulsating and writhing beneath your skin?’ But she doesn’t. She runs her hand over my hip and takes it back up over my ribs. I find this incredibly sexy. My hand is resting on her waist, above her hips and below her ribs and I want to do so much what she is doing but she does it with such effortless grace and I know I wouldn’t and I don’t want to scare her off and away from me but I know I should probably tell her to just go before I hurt her. But I don’t. I squeeze her a little bit tighter.

‘You’ve got a lovely body.’ She says apropos of nothing in the middle of a conversation about film. This is a come on but I’m not sure.

‘This is where I live.’ She says and stands in front of me. Looking in my eyes. She keeps her hand on my waist and puts the other on the other side. She talks for a long while looking at the floor or my stomach, absently stroking my chest, about how she has enjoyed our time together. I decide that I should kiss her and put my hands to her face and move it towards my own.
We kiss.
We kiss.
We kiss.
She kisses me and I kiss her. Our eyes are closed and it feels

After a long time we break apart.

‘Thank god for that. I thought you were gay! Didn’t you notice the signals I was giving out? I wanted to do that for a while…’


Submitted: November 09, 2008

© Copyright 2022 Heliconx. All rights reserved.

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