It was late in the evening and they were on their way back to the hotel.
They were walking hand in hand along the dimly lit alleyways, a musty smell of rich history emanating from the impressive old buildings.
The air was cold and damp, but it didn’t bother her at all. His hand was so warm. It was starting to rain again and they hurried to the cobblestone arcades underneath the railroad.
It was dark, and she could hear the echo of rain dripping through stone walls covered in moss and faded graffiti.
It was a long day and the weather has just turned to the worse, but somehow she felt full of anticipation.
It must have been the freedom of getting lost in a foreign city, the juiciness of sharing long nights in places they discovered through aimless wanderings.
They turned another corner and came to a row of quaint businesses.
An arts and crafts shop with colourful ceramic cups and figurines of tall cats with long necks in the displays, a fittingly black clad tattoo salon,
an old-fashioned chocolate shop with a red and grey striped canopy above the doorway, and an out-of-place irish pub that seemed to be still open.
Faint light was spilling through the slits of green shutters and they could feel the music vibrating from within. “Want to go check it out?” he said.
Against her usual reluctance she found herself hoping he’d said that.
He pulled the wooden door open and they were hit by heavy warmth that carried the sweetness of rich creamy Irish beer soaked in through time with a good mix of wafts of hundreds
of guests passing through the place at one time or another. The place was packed with people and the music was loud.
Adorned in the usual wooden decor that got a polished patina from thousands of beer spills and sweaty hands. A live concert was on.
“Want a beer” he said? “Sure, I’ll wait here and keep the spot” she heard herself say, and continued to soak in the atmosphere. A moving mass of bodies was flashing in front of her eyes.
A dimly lit space, body against body against dark walls, shown in snapshots of white stroboscope lights. She turned towards the stage. And time stopped.
A slender body clad in black leather, long razor straight blond hair falling down to his waist like a pale waterfall, his hands caressing a guitar and body bending back to tease the music out.
Eyes closed and ecstatic serenity painted across his face. As if he was in another world, another time. She just stood there completely transfixed. Almost too thin, and definitely too pale.
He was so not her type but she could not pull her gaze away. Image after image in cold white light.
He played to himself, immersed in his own universe behind his eyelids, dreamy smile spreading across a chiseled face, fingertips caressing the vibrating strings.
She could feel the heat rising inside of her with each lusty gulp, devouring his erotic pleasure as the seconds passed by. His body kept bending, tongue moistened his tender lips.
In her mind she could feel him pressing against her, right there in the middle of a room full of people.
She could feel the building electricity inside of her, the power making her juicy and wanting.
“What am I doing” her sensible self resonated somewhere in the back of her head but this only heated her up more.
It was just hers, this moment, and it came with such animal magnetism that she only wanted more.
She could feel the pressure building in her innermost core, like a ball of fire, heating, expanding, rising, contracting her into void.
“Please” it was almost unbearable now, the stillness of the moment as the rigidness vibrated through her. Then, all went quiet, and slow, and warmth flooded her every cell. Freedom.
“You okay? How’s the music?” she heard him say from somewhere afar. “Yeah, it’s okay” not completely realising her warm cheeks and mellow gaze.
“I got us two local drafts, I thought you’d like to try out something new.”