She glanced over her shoulder at the door then reached across the table, brushing the ash off my hand with the back of hers then holding it and giving it a squeeze. My hand was sweaty anyway but my head began to clear. I can tell you about my cigarette case.
We ended up naked that night. I took her back to the apartment I had on the edge of town. We talked into the evening, about her cigarette case and other things. It stayed hot even after it got dark and we had to leave the apartment to get some cooler air. My landlord, Marty, kept a stocked trout pond for all the kids at the bottom of the hill behind the apartment complex.
There were willow trees along the bank that the kids used for shade while they fished and Sarah and I sat beneath one of them and watched the surface of the pond boil with feeding trout. Insects were hatching along the shore and we could hear the slaps little trout made as they leapt clear of the water to eat the bugs, then landed on their sides. Sarah smoked two cigarettes and then stood.
It was her idea, skinny-dipping. We took off our clothes with our backs facing. We both peeked. Then she told me to close my eyes, that she would close hers, and we walked into the black water. Trout rolled just beneath the surface, turning and lunging for the bugs. I felt the tiny currents of her hands and feet, the slick hungry bellies of the trout slipping by in the dark. That was the start of it. Two weeks later, she quit smoking for me.
She just gave me her cigarette case and said she was through. Her clothes were already packed. I could put them outside and shove her out the door naked. I could pack her stuff into boxes, and put it all out on the curb. She stepped toward me and slid her arms around my waist, pinning my arms to my sides.
She rested her head on my chest. Her shoulders tensed. Looking down her spine, I saw these raised plumes of blisters, bright red and weeping. Through her arms, I dropped to a crouch to look at her feet. With my pointer finger, I traced a line of blisters that started on her big toe, winding back to her ankle. Here too? Sarah pinched her temples with one hand and put the other hand on her hip. She walked back toward the closed window. She pushed the curtain back and opened the window. She crossed her arms over her breasts.
She turned toward me. Where her shoulders met her neck, blotches of red from his hands or lips. The kitchen light came out of an old fishbowl fixture that turned it yellow, like everything was bathing in olive oil.
It made her look awful, sick, and so tired. She shook her head. If I could see his back, would I see your hands? Did you hold him like that? Sex was two people pulling themselves together. She wanted me to see this as gravity. Her eyes softened; this little bulge on her jaw went slack.
She uncrossed her arms and let her hands hang at her sides. I looked down at the linoleum and counted six checkered squares between us. We could hear moths bumping the light fixture, their wings beating ragged against the glow.
I looked at her, the little moth shadows floating across the room, across her face and chest, and her hands opened toward me. She picked up her robe and folded it, setting it on the counter. She picked up the coupon and put it back on the fridge. She looked so tired. I turned off the light and walked toward her, the black shape of her in front of the window.
Out back, the flint-flash and glow of the man on his phone as he lit another cigarette. I held her close and we stood in the dark, her hands sliding over me. Cool story, it grabs you slowly and moves from scene to scene quite effortlessly. I can imagine the kitchen bulb flickering and the refrigerator humming.
Comment by tjq — June 12, am. Comment by Maximus — December 20, am. Comment by narbonne — February 29, pm.
This is a crazy story. I love how the story is so emotionless. Thanks for writing it. Also I felt I was there. Great detail. Thank you again. Comment by Anonymus — July 16, pm. The critical need for using the internet and mobile media to capture sales from searching customers is apparent. One guy came back with three leeches stuck to him, despite the fact that no one else encountered a leech.
And then we got screamed at by everyone in the jacuzzi when we tried to get in without rinsing off, looking like Creatures from the Black Lagoon with all the lake mud.
The girls in the group decided to go down to one of the more private parts of the lake one night and skinny-dip. It was pitch black out. The only problem? The girls were so bashful they kept trying to cover themselves with their hands, which were now conveniently lit by glow bracelets. Every time they went for whatever they wanted hidden, they did the exact opposite by lighting it up neon green or purple. We were in the water and we both ended up fully naked swimming around the lake.
Then we heard something splash into the water. Not only that but one of them stayed on the dock shining their flashlight into the water! Our bathing suits were on the dock so we were completely screwed. They all giddily hopped into a stranger's pool, but suddenly all of the lights went on in the house and somebody that they knew from college walked out.
We stripped naked in the shrub and started walking down the beach towards the water. As we got closer we noticed behind a locked supply shed was a group of teens drinking beers. My idiot self ran for the water instead of back to the bush where my clothes were. The pond was at the bottom of a hill and unbeknownst to us, a nettle bush had fallen into the pond and all of its nettles had dispersed throughout.
We were covered in stinging nettles. All of a sudden, while we were out in the water, cars start to pull up. A party on the other side of town had been busted early on so they moved it to lake. We had to run through the party to find our clothes on the beach and high-tail it out of there.
It was a small town so everyone knew who we were and I still get made fun of for it from time to time. Am I allowed to look at everyone's butts? How can I combine my respect for naked partying with my love of Israel's historical sites? What if I really don't want to do it? In the spirit of summer's end and school's beginning, Gawker presents: Skinny Dipping Do I have to skinny dip? You do not. Many people prefer not to cavort naked with others outside of the boudoir.
For these people YOLO is not a justification for selfish madness, but a reminder to live very carefully. Many of them grow up to be captains of industry, "the responsible twin," and brunettes. A great way to appear spontaneous and fun while not stripping down to show off your jubblies or your jigglies is to jump into the body of water with all your clothes on.
Now you're not the plain potato who refused to take part in a bacchanalian adventure. You're the curly fry who was so ready to get crazy you didn't even waste time removing your clothes. But aren't you worried you'll ruin your silk dress? Hell no because, guess what, you're rich. Everybody loves you! It's also perfectly acceptable to hop in wearing just underwear, if you don't want people to think you're rich.
If you absolutely must wear a formal bathing costume, that's a little boring, but people probably won't harp on it for too long. Can I just stay on land and watch? I'm okay with being a plain potato. No, you cannot. Staying on the sidelines and watching makes you a perverted potato.
If you don't want to hop in the water, you should either turn your back, busy yourself with another task NOT masturbation , or remove yourself from the area.
Active participation is the price you pay for witnessing skinny dipping antics. You want to watch people have sexy fun while you do nothing? Watch a porno. My friends and I are all skinny dipping. Now can I ogle? Skinny dipping is not for ravishing your acquaintances' naked forms with your eyes.
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