Symphonie a deux

The juxtaposition of her pretty face and seemingly unpleasant body brought out of him mixed feelings. It was a strange combination of pleasure and displeasure that kept swinging back and forth inside him. The worst part is that she only noticed when displeasure fled by his face. The best part is that he didn’t know that she knew so they kept chatting and sipping from the same cup her favorite drink: mocha latte. He didn’t care for the drink. He was simply focused on what was going to happen next. In his dorm. Just the two of them. The size of her breasts. The swing in her lips. That perfect long tongue. Paradise isn’t far after all. Yes, he was desperate. She wasn’t. It has been awhile for her, but she didn’t want none of that cheap stuff and more than anything she wanted to be desired. To be wanted. To be needed. To be craved for.

He didn’t care for all that. What was between his legs was doing the thinking for him and more often than he was willing to admit, it has brought him to the gates of Hell. He would breathe in the fumes from the pit coming from the lost souls but wouldn’t let himself go any further.

She knew nothing good was going to come out of this. She knew from the start that their paths were parallel even though he was physically all she wanted. Some things in life were just too overpriced and one needed to know when to pull out and let the sleeping dogs lie. So she decided to enjoy this mocha latte with him. Give him all the attention in the world. Make him feel like the king he thought to be and then move on. Nothing less, nothing more.

Yes, he was delusional. Maybe it was his hormones. Maybe it was society. Maybe it was those easy, cheap girls. Maybe it was the Devil. There was plenty of room for the blame to go around. For now, he was enjoying this mocha latte with this allright looking girl who had this twinkle in her eyes that said volumes. She was going to make him a happy man by the end of the afternoon.

Symphonie a deux. She wanted love. He wanted a good time. A sprint, not a marathon. She knew by heart Adele’s song “I can’t make you love me” and she was humming it as their ‘date’ came to an end. She noticed that he noticed she was humming it, but he didn’t think to ask. Maybe it was for the better.

“Am I going to see you again?”

“Who knows? If you know where to find me, you just might.”

“Maybe next time, I will cook you dinner at my place.”

“Maybe.”

They left each other. Two parallel lives moving in each direction. Symphonie a deux.

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