Short Story: Marcus
It wasn't what I expected, he wasn't what I expected. My friend Marcus has changed a lot, there's a venom in him. His words seethe with rage, they leak out of the crevices of his tongue. Poison that they are. He used to be that guy, the smiler in the neighbourhood, the one who always waved at you first. But somethings strange about him, these days. There's a sickness in his eyes where there was warmth, a darkness where there was light, and yesterday his soul felt completely black. " I'm not a how was it for you,kind of girl." I stretch my tall limbs out to the edge of his mahogany bed post.my breasts are pert beneath the sapphire blanket. I used to feel a warmth in his room. The embers in the fireplace, the painting of a more retro urban Monalisa, the gold chandeliers, when we were kids we used to do yoga on his older brothers tiger rug which he had claimed for himself. " would it be cheesy if I admitted, that it made me feel cheap," I tie my hair up in a satin bun. There's rouge on the bedsheets from where I lay on my front as he claimed me in the shadows of a busy night. I was dense with drink and sick with longing. "Did you want it to mean more?" His voice is throaty, rough as his brown eyes lick the embers in the fire. " No." I confess. We're not couple people, Marcus and I have never been couple people. We hate Valentine's Day, and it's tedious marketing campaigns. I don't care much for chocolates, silk scarves, or funny lingerie. Last Valentine's Day Marcus licked bourbon out of my belly button, and planted a kiss between my thighs. It was soft and gentle, I felt his goatee tickle the soft layers of my flesh as I curled his handsome face like a stallion. Allowing his tongue to slip between my undergarments. We'd never went beyond that. for years, we'd watched, tingled, tiptoed around the electricity we felt. Now I simply felt stone in my stomache salt in my mouth. It wasnt supposed to be like this, it was meant to be hot and sweet, a sedative for my pain. Nourishment for my starvation. Sometimes I feel like a lynx, combing a trail through the wild, yet with my other lovers I feel myself clawing into infinity. " will you ever talk about it, about what was done?" Marcus runs large hands through his ink black crown, his eyes almost as dark. "Maybe." He shrugs his lean frame dragging on the dark jeans and turtle neck. "One day."