Author: Margaret Arlen

TRUST

It all happened a very long time ago, yet the writing of it brings sight, sounds, smells and touch to vivid recall.

Alone together in the crowded candle lit smoke filled room, an unspoken agreement made, they still sat, surrounded,
the air humming between them. She wondered how long it would take, willed the friendly voices, the faces lit by soft light, to go away. Her hand lay unmoving, turned upwards in her lap, but the elemental ghost of it drifted up of its own volition, stretched out across the table and curled her fingers around his neck….she could feel the heat of him. As the night grew longer, little by little everyone drifted away, to sleep in cars, on floors, a spare chair, anywhere.

Nothing was said, they both stood up in a room empty but for sleeping bodies, came together easily……the feel of his body, muscled with hard labour pulled tight against her, the strong male scent of him overpowering, she breathed him in, sniffing breath, neck and chest the way wild animals do….sensing each other, then turned, took his hand,
led him to to an old couch in the closed in verandah, found a blanket….not so much for warmth as for cover…..sanctuary.

Clothes thrown on the floor, she reaches up from this rough bed, draws him down, takes him in. Cocooned in this dimly lit world, relaxed , blood pulsing with weed and whisky, they come together, every part of both bodies touching, kissing. “Oh god, the taste of him, his full lipped mouth is everything she dreamed“
“You are SO smooth “ he whispers, his voice rough and deep in his belly. They move together, fused together, for the few short hours before daylight, and unknowingly she sinks into sleep, still holding him.
And wakes, with him leaving, it’s still so early, and she’s already hungry for him, again. He bends kisses her, laughs softly because she wants more, she wants him. No hiding the truth of it now, and from the first sighting, despite everything, it was always going to be this way, was already too late.
Reaching up, pulling him back to her, taking his mouth, she whispers, voice husky and cracked with so little sleep
“Stay, stay with me….don’t go to work, stay”
And pulling back, laughing, he turns, walks out the door, shutting it quietly…..she hears him kick the motorcycle over, smells petrol fumes, it sputters, kicks into life, roars off down the driveway and gradually fades. And she lies, listening to the sound of it, becoming fainter, as he vanishes into the crisp, cold, mountain morning.

MA©️. Winter 2018
To be continued

Continued

EYES WIDE SHUT

Because of events that followed, she remembers all these long years later, what she was wearing that night. Feeling lovely….and yes, that meant something to her, because of all the time before in that failed marriage, when, under her husband’s critical eye, she just….simply…..didn’t measure up.
A soft blue knee length Indian cotton dress, full sleeved, tight at the wrists and swirling skirt, with fine long cotton pants underneath….Indian style. Turquoise embroidered satin slippers, fine silver bangles, necklace and earrings with delicate beveled pink crystal drops…..very, very feminine.
Long, wavy hair, perfumed with oil of Myrhh. Eyes softly smudged with Kohl.
She feels the pressure building, waiting to see if she’s right, if it really is him…..
And then he’s there, pushing through the door…..bold and shy at the same time….walking in amongst all the Hippies, smelling of whisky and petrol, cigarettes, sweat and his own strong male scent, clad in dirty jeans, so well worn they hold the shape of his body, a tee shirt with sleeves rolled right back, cigarette pack shoved into one sleeve….thick straight shoulder length dark brown hair, slightly lightened by the sun, heavy boots dusty from the road.
Intoxicating Masculinity!!!
She feels weak, hands trembling, wanting to claim him on the spot, fearful she’s wrong, that she’s imagined the energy pulsing between them. Face split in a wide ferocious smile, white teeth gleaming, he moves gracefully between groups squatting on the floor, passing the ever present bong to and fro…..filling, smoking, cleaning and refilling. It’s a full time job, but everybody’s happy.
He comes and sits down across the table from her, where a group of people are playing cards, smiles at her, calls her by her family pet name “Blossom”, gets involved, shuffles, deals, playing poker. She drinks whisky, gets drawn in and out of stories and conversations, and all the while, watches him, her body humming with pleasure.
Pleasure in watching his beautifully deft hands, his curved fingernails, the blue veins standing out in hands and arms against his smooth brown skin. And when his face is turned away, looking down at the card play, studies his face…..sunbrowned, high broad cheekbones, slightly slanted amber eyes, a wide full lipped mouth…..slightly asiatic.
Drawing his face, as she’s drawn people so often, but without pen and paper she draws him still, every broad plane, blue vein, graceful hands, muscled arms, shoulders…..sketching in vivid detail with her eyes. He looks up, catches her watching him and smiles….that wide….face splitting, pirate’s smile.
Nothing else exists in that crowded, sweaty, tropical, smoke hazed room, but him, standing out in sharp relief as everyone else fades into the background.

MA©️. Winter 2018
To be continued

Continued….

HEARTBURN

An agreement made with her ex husband, who was now based overseas, that while she travelled their two young sons would visit and stay with him, for 3 months. On her return they would come home with her. But on her return, against her will he had decided they would finish out the year with him….and then, the 3 months became 3 years….a fabulous experience for them, not so, for her.
Returning to Nimbin, her anchor cut loose, adrift from family life, responsibilities…..the daily routines and disciplines of school runs, cooking for family…..recklessness and a new found, unwished for freedom, left her whirling in a maelstrom of unstoppered emotions. She threw herself, eyes blinded by an overwhelming sensory overload, into the fire, wanting nothing more than to give, give in completely, and burn.

Inexorably drawn to him….always aware of him…..until fate or opportunity brought them together. On a balmy Spring evening word went out, her friend only minutes away, up Stoneychute Road, was having a party
She dressed with care and went there, with only one thought consuming her….him….willing him. Never invitation only, whoever heard the word party, turned up, and in that era of Peace, Free Love and Good Vibes, pretty much anyone was welcome. It was quite late, close to midnight, when hearing the roar of a motorcycle coming down the driveway….it could have been any number of people, but she knew, felt it in every quivering nerve ending, knowing it was him.

MA©️. Winter 2018
To be continued