Drove all night

Drove all night *

For M.

Several days ago they were not seen each other. She longed for his hands, his lips, his tongue crossing her completely. She needed him, she longed him and wanted him. Every second became a torture. She could not think about anything but his hands, great, warm, caressing her, kissing her lips, her nipples, each toe of her feet... Her skin burned her.

Friday she could not wait for any longer. She left the office. Handbag, gasoline, highway and her goal: him.

She drove all the night.

He waited for her, dumb, under rain. The delay was hard like his dick. They were entangled, fought, they were fused and they stumped the night.

The following morning rain hid her tears.

She drove all the night and she will do it again and again.

Hacía varios días que no se veían. Añoraba sus manos, sus labios, su lengua recorriéndola por completo. Le necesitaba, le añoraba y le deseaba. Cada segundo se convertía en una tortura. No podía pensar en nada que no fueran sus manos, grandes, cálidas, acariciándola, besando su labios, sus pezones, cada dedo de sus pies… Su piel la quemaba.

El viernes no pudo esperar. Salió de la oficina. Bolso, gasolina, carretera y su meta: él.

Condujo toda la noche.

La esperaba mudo, bajo la lluvia. La espera fue dura como su verga. Se enredaron, lucharon, se fundieron y difuminaron la noche.

A la mañana siguiente, la lluvia escondió sus lágrimas.

Condujo toda la noche y volvería hacerlo.

* "Drove all night" song by Cyndi Lauper and written by Roy Orbison.

Sewing Machine

Singer

Sewing machine

The heat was suffocating, the dust burned as if they were coals. I opened the windows and I lowered a little the blinds. The light between brown and orange colored each corner of your apartment. Like every evening, I sat on my ochre upholstered sofa. You arrive as if nothing made you notice that I am looking at you. And I do it, every evening, every night, whenever I feel you close and real.

I have a glass with two ices and dry bourbon in a hand, in the other I have my obsession by you. You sat down in the machine to sew. The Singer droning accompanies you when you sing, when you try on what you are sewing, when you cut the fabric with those so great scissors, when cut and modifies, when you mark with that soap, when you look towards where I am without seeing me.
The dawn observes you like I do, whereas your hands fall. It seems that the forces leave you and you lie down. I will finish my obsession in frenetic dance.
Soon like Pilatos, I will wash away my sin and I will go to bed knowing that tomorrow you will be at the same hour in the same place and I will be in mine.

Máquina de coser

El calor era asfixiante, el polvo quemaba como si fueran brasas. Abrí las ventanas y bajé un poco las persianas. La luz entre marrón y naranja coloreaba cada rincón de tu apartamento. Como cada tarde, me siento en mi sofá tapizado en ocres. Llegas como si nada te hiciera indicar que te observo. Y lo hago, cada tarde, cada noche, siempre que te noto cerca y despierta.
Tengo un vaso con dos hielos y un bourbon seco en una mano, en la otra tengo mi obsesión por ti.
Te sientas en la máquina a coser. El ronroneo de la Singer te acompaña cuando cantas, cuando te pruebas lo que coses, cuando cortas la tela con esas tijeras tan grandes, cuando cortas y retocas, cuando pintas con ese jabón, cuando miras hacia donde estoy sin verme.
La madrugada te observa como yo mientras que tus manos caen. Parece que las fuerzas te abandonan y te acuestas. Yo terminaré mi obsesión en danza frenética. Luego como Pilatos, lavaré mi pecado y me acostaré sabiendo que mañana estarás a la misma hora en tu lugar y yo en el mío.