Trip without End

 

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Jeans-Girl-9227925

With faded jeans and a loose-buttoned shirt she enters the room.

Through the fringe of her dark hair and expressionless face,

she scans the flow of people, absorbs their energy

before moving to a booth in a dimly lit corner.

She settles back to watch, an aura of ‘don’t come too close’

keeping the curious away.

Her gaze sweeps the bar before pausing on a tall, hard stranger,

leaning against the wall with a look of disinterest,

yet his eyes caught hers as she looked at him,

and he held them fast in a magnetic stare, through the wall of her seclusion,

and pierced into her mind without a doubt of being refused.

He moves towards her, the casual t-shirt and worn jeans

unable to hide the rippling strength and power underneath.

He takes her hand to the drum intro of ‘We’re an American Band’.

Captivated she follows and their bodies move together,

‘til they touch, joined from thigh to hot, wet lips,

and the heat between them burns their surroundings to ashes.

Still silent they walk out together, ‘Follow me?’, to which she nods her assent,

drawn by the silhouette of the man while driving sightless through unknown streets.

The shock of his touch as he pulls her to him and the urgency in his lips

explode into her consciousness as awareness returns to her leaping senses

and they feasts on another with a hunger they can’t stem.

With the first light of dawn, without sleep on this bed, she rises;

with a kiss, without a word, she leaves, turns left down the main road,
towards the highway, on this trip that may not end.