The Book of Love and Hate by Lauren Sanders

Author:Lauren Sanders [Sanders, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Akashic Books
Published: 2017-08-07T22:00:00+00:00

PART FIVE

DEEP DARK DOWN IN THE CITY OF SHADOWS

Tel Aviv, Mid-March 2009

When I think of love I think of secrets. Moments lodged so deep in neuron and tissue only the graze of her lips can rouse them. I want to gouge the hushed muck of childhood and turn it into a lollipop, so she can suck it between her teeth. I want to tell her about my brother.

Yet we talk nonsense on my bed, crisp and new, in an understated apartment on the sixtieth floor. It's the highest I've ever resided and I realize I don't like heights. I avoid the smoky gray-pink windows, especially on sunny mornings, though the entire city catcalls to one side, the glowing Mediterranean purring softly on the other, all of it perpetually, preposterously rose-tinted, like living inside expensive sunglasses. I have a private entrance and bodyguards down in the street below. One is called Mule and he follows me when I leave the block, the other, Wolf, keeps watch here.

Gila's wearing an orange miniskirt, tight brown leather boots with a gold zipper up the side. I walk around the bed and kneel down beside her, legs opening slightly to reveal the secret du jour: she is not wearing underwear. I smile and with every beat of my heart let desire eclipse revelation. She breathes, ahhhhh.

It is my favorite sound in the world. Devoid of accent, just the back of her throat letting it all hang out.

I could come right here, right now. But I don't.

She wraps her leather calves around my ears, careful with the zippers. My head feels cool and silky and I think how long can we keep this up? I'm a wonderer by nature. Some call it anxiety. Even as I lap my tongue up the inside of her thigh, slipping my head beneath her skirt, I want to know what she's thinking, who am I in this equation? I can't turn off the questions. This is why I drink. She smells like violets mixed with a little yeast. You can eat violets, the flowers and the leaves, something else to tell her later. If there's time . . . Now I'm driving her a little crazy, moving my tongue slowly from thigh to thigh, breathing heavily against her violet patch like a flirty bee, but remaining aloof. I used to tease women for sport, my own, seeing how long I could last without making them come. The more they begged the greater my resolve. But here's the kicker with violets: they can be self-pollinating. Insect or not, they make shit happen. My tongue rises up to her lips and folds into her. Again she breathes, ahhhhh.

I increase in speed and orientation. The moment it gets like competition and there is only one way out, unless you fuck it up so badly you can't handle yourself.

She comes, screaming louder than loud. The walls are soundproof, among other things. She grabs my head hard and pulls me up against her. Little kisses tip my nose, my cheeks.

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