Reflections

Curious. If I were forced to use one word to describe my own character it would probably be Curious. Other words that would probably describe me better could be nosy, blunt or excessively shy and dull but I guess that bottom line, I try to be positive about myself and life in general. So Curious it is.

I cannot remember one single day of my life that has not been spent, at least not to the greatest extent, by me investigating the surroundings, indulging in the spectacles of lights and colors around me, learning about the life of people and their habits.

This hobby of mine is made so much easier by the fact that many people, the absolute majority, have a tendency not to notice me at all and when this category of people do, they tend to actively ignore me. Consequently, I can (although I despise the expression) sneak up on people pretty easily and follow their everyday life and doings without anyone disturbing me. I have spent most of my life in the shopping mall just watching people, smiling inside knowing that they would probably not take notice of me even if they would look straight at me. The excitement of finding a new peculiar behavior or an interesting character I have never seen before is only superseded by the rush I experience when I find new patterns – an elderly gentleman that always halts for a second to tighten his tie and wet his lips before he enters any store in the mall, a young woman that everyday manages to sneak out of the record store celebrating a new innovative way of stealing a compact disc only to return ten minutes later and pay for the goods anyway.

Most observations are mundane, such as the fact that men pick the nose by digging with the index finger or the thumb whereas women use their ring finger or little finger and remove any itching with an outward movement as if the ambition was to fling away any foul objects as far away as possible, but I cannot resist from adding even these observations to my catalogue of human behavior.

Other reflections, nevertheless, are quite exquisite. One of my all time favorites, of erotic nature of course as erotic and sexual behavior has a tendency to always end up on my top ten lists, is Mrs. Fruit. She was Miss Fruit when I first spotted her but I am positive that she married a couple of months ago. Her daily show is still on, nonetheless.

*

My first sensation was that of being monitored but I was pretty sure even then that nobody was watching me but I was equally sure that somewhere in the mall, somebody was watching or guarding someone or something. The feeling prompted flashes of the image of sharks circling a helpless prey in deep water. Wide circles at first, narrowing, sudden fake attacks and then...

There it was, at the fruits and vegetables desk in the supermarket was a slender girl letting her hand stroke a bunch of zucchinis, then quickly removing her hand and turn away into the store. Only to return a minute later. This time, and I saw her eyes focus on the fruit from far away, her steps took her to the bananas. A quick check of a bunch of bananas and then away again.

I followed her closely, watching her repeat the routine a number of times until she had gone over all stretched fruits and vegetables in the store only to hide one specific cucumber a bit behind the others and then leave the store. Watching her stroll between different shopping-windows in the mall, I started to wonder what she was up to when she suddenly turned around, swift like a shark changing direction, and strode towards the supermarket. Radiating a sense of razor sharp precision she picked up the targeted cucumber and put it in her basket. On her way to the counter, she randomly picked up a couple of small items. After having paid, she moved hurriedly towards the parking lot and disappeared.

The woman's routine developed almost instantly to one of the regular sceneries of the mall. Almost like clock-work she arrives mid-afternoon, neatly dressed in dark blue or grayish suits. Most often, she will finally pick a cucumber but already after three weeks, she had picked up carrots and bananas, zucchinis and egg plants as well as corn on the cob and a few other stretched fruits and vegetables.

I was quite certain from the start that the reason for her daily purchases was not an urge for vitamins and fibers. Her sensual investigation of the phallus-like vegetables displayed far too erotic undertones. But I was a bit afraid that this conclusion was designed by my disturbed mind rather than founded on facts and reason. This hesitation disappeared, nevertheless, a week after she supposedly had married.

Without warning, the woman had interrupted her daily routine for several days but this particular day she had returned and had bought a yellow zucchini but instead of heading directly to the parking lot, she sat down at the Italian café in the middle of the mall.

It took a while before I realized, but when she moved a cup of cappuccino to her lips, the diamonds from her brand new ring sparkled almost unnaturally bright and I understood that her civil status had most likely changed. I guessed that this was related to her waiting at the coffee shop.

After some twenty minutes of idleness, I returned my focus to the woman since she had started to look at the watch and make movements as if she was uncomfortable. There was something about her appearance that led me to suspect that she had strained her back but I realized that the peculiar angel of her back was due to the fact that her hand was deep down in the paper bag from the supermarket while she looked casually around her, apparently trying to let her activities go unnoticed. Needless to say, she did not notice me watching her but I believe that she was successful in her attempt otherwise.

Finally she lifted the zucchini out of the bag and she let it slide along her leg all the way from her ankle to her thigh, over her knee-long skirt. Her eyes were half closed and lips slightly apart but otherwise there were little, if any, evidence showing that she was carefully caressing her legs with the vegetable. She did not wait long until she parted her legs and let the zucchini slide in under her skirt between her legs. I could see that she bit her lower lip as she raised her hips slightly only to sit down again, although this time with the new-won friend under her, secured by her clenched thighs.

Obviously a bit nervous, she let her eyes wander over people on neighboring tables, but when she felt comfortable that nobody had realized what she had been up to, she returned to her cup of cappuccino for a sip. She picked up a newspaper and made a good impression that she was actually reading it but I could see that she rhythmically tightened the muscles in her legs and wiggled her behind, as to squeeze the vegetable under her. I could also notice that her body trembled occasionally and every once in a while she would twitch her head and bite her lip.

The pleasure she was obviously experiencing did, nevertheless, not diminish her attention. Even before I noticed the disturbance to the rhythm in the mall from his half running steps, the woman had dropped the zucchini in the bag, risen from the chair and opened her arms to greet her husband from far away. This was the only glimpse I have ever gotten from him, but I have continued to spot the woman's green lovers almost daily.

*

Some people, and I have never been able to tell who or why or what will make up the difference, are quite the opposite from those that do not see me. I live my life without prejudice and I do not think that I give certain people more attention than others. I am not much of a flatterer but am pretty open with what I think at all times (this has, of course, led to disagreements more than once). Consequently, I sincerely believe that it is not my doing that lead certain people to ignore me and others to adore me.

Some people, more women than men to be honest but like I said, I have no prejudice, seem to like me straight and simple. When we meet, the mutual attraction is instantaneous.

Conversations turn into emotions, mutual reflections turn into subtle touches, the arousing feeling of the breath that bears the sweet words from a close face turns into a kiss. Sometimes I can feel that kiss for days; feel like I bear a mark of erotic sensation open for anyone to see.

But I have learnt not to let myself get carried away. Too many times have my lover from the day before forgotten about me the day after and through her neglecting me, actively pushed me back to the voyeur's seat. Watching my lover, watching new people, usurping characters and characteristics.

*

Suddenly, she stood in front of me. She was smiling, dancing, flirting. I knew in that instant that my life had changed. My initial state of wilderness quickly passed and I was lost to her charm, enchanted by her vigor. She caressed me and took me home. She did not demand or ask me, she just took me home. And I followed.

I was excited, even thrilled over the sharp turns faith had suddenly taken. I had always been the spectator. My satisfaction had always come from wallowing in my impressions of the outside world. Characterizing, cataloguing, analyzing; often knowing what people would do before they did it, even before they knew what they was about to do. My reflections on human nature had reached a status of perfection - I had had it all figured out.

No more. Finding myself in the midst of events I did not even try to guess where Fortune was about to take me. I could not sort out any data from my observations, could not identify any patterns to analyze. Frameworks were non-existent. Every second was a new experience. Every minute, I was reborn. Emotions overwhelmed me. I wanted to cry. I wanted to laugh.

Amazing. The feeling of her presence was fortified by the smells in her home and the sudden sensation that everything around me was part of her amazed me as we entered through the door. I felt that I was home.

She showed me her bedroom. Music filled my ears and engulfed with lust we danced. Her muscles and limbs seemed to absorb the rhythms and put her body in motion in perfect harmony with the music.

My excitement grew and I felt bolts of lightning running through me as she started to undress, still dancing, preening before me, stroking her body with her hands as she removed her light garments. I was aroused like never before when she danced before me, totally naked, divulging her beautiful body. Smilingly, she teased me by touching herself; her hair, her neck, her torso. Her one hand caressed her breast while the other moved, slowly, along her side, caressing her behind, forward to her thigh.

She looked straight at me and winked as her hand cupped her sex and made massaging it a part of her dance. Suddenly she seemed to lose track of the music as the swaying movements of her body slowed down and was replaced by stiff spasms. A faint moan slipped from her lips and her head flung backwards, eyes closed, as she buried the tip of her hand inside her.

She sat down on the side of the bed, again looking straight at me, apparently exhausted from her self-exploring dance as pearls of sweat were visible on her chest, although still smiling. Then she lay back on the bed expressing a sigh. I tried to reach out to her but even before I could move she shot out of the bed and out of the room without one word of explanation.

I heard her rummaging around in the other rooms but did not dare to follow her. I did not understand. And I did not understand why I did not understand. Why was it that I could not relate to any past experience in my trying to approach her? Why was this scenery, in which I was an integrated player, so different from others that I had only observed as a spectator? Why had I learnt so little when I had studied so much?

After ages of time she came back to the bedroom. My doubts faded as I watched her. She had brushed off any clues from her savage dancing before. She wore an astonishing silk dress that led the thoughts to water and wind as her every move sent waves through the fabric, yet it divulged the perfect curvature of her body. She looked straight at me, carefully smoothed her hair, smiled hastily and then she was gone. All went dark.

*

So, I am curious. Curios about her. Curious about my situation, what I should do, if I should go or if I should stay. But I have no outlet for my curiosity. Curiosity is pounding in my head, in my chest, desperate to find its way out. Frustration builds as it cannot escape. All is dark. I try to move but cannot. I try to scream but cannot. I do not know why I am paralyzed. Was I always like this? When did it happen and why? Nothing else in the room moves - is that the reason why I cannot move? Nothing else in the room makes any noise - is that why I cannot make a sound? I was so sure that my life had changed. I did not realize that this was all there was around the corner. Darkness. Silence. Despair.

*

I am back at the mall. People are running to and fro as they come by after work to do their grocery shopping; because they want to come home with flowers, for love or for conscience; because they are afraid to go home; because they have no home. Mrs. Fruit has just left for the parking lot with a bag of vegetables, half running. She almost ran over the elderly gentleman as he tightened his tie before he was to enter the supermarket but hurried away anxious that he might find out her secrets. But he does not care about secrets. He just wets his lips and enters the store.

I am safe. Nobody takes any notice of me. I savor the impressions from the living people around me, the sounds, the movements...

*

The front door opens. The realization that I am still in her bedroom startles me. Hope? Maybe. Anxiety? Definitely.

Laughter. Voices. She is not alone. A man is with her. They stumble into the bedroom. I freeze, pressing myself against the wall.

Darkness does not allow me to see more of her and her company than silhouettes. I hold my breath, hoping that they will not spot me, when I reflect over the stupidity in my reaction. Why should I hide? I should forward and claim my right to her. But what would my grounds be for such a claim? I was more than willing when I let her take me with her. I reveled in her attention but demanded no commitments; neither took nor gave any promises.

So I hide. So I observe.

So I watch a man and a woman, just barely visible from the faint light from a neighboring room, bodies entwined in a licentious performance. Her movements echoes the dancing from earlier, only reinforced, only more expressed, only more erotic from the interaction with him, performing an equally captivating dance. The man and woman complement each other perfectly and my uneasiness and shame disappears for the benefit of excitement and admiration.

Never have I experienced such ardor. The heat from their animated passion touches me and sends waves of pleasure through me. No, I should not hide. My place is not hiding against the wall. I should enter the lustful competition and embrace the situation with the enthusiasm that is building up inside me. Touch her. Kiss him. Let them feel me. Let them see me. I am no longer the observer - I am a participant.

Did I make a noise? Their eager movements slow down. His eyes focus on me. Has he seen me? He whispers something in her ear and she smiles and looks at me.

Lights on. Beckoning. He rises before me, smiling; showing me his naked body, proud of his athletic constitution, proud of his erection.

She comes up behind him, presses her torso against his back, and caresses his body with her hands. Kisses his shoulders, then looks up at me smiling and invites me to join their fondling. He pulls her in front of him, brings her closer to me, to share her with me. She does not leave me with her eyes as she puts one arm on each side of me. Her face is right next to me. Her breathing is heavy. He puts his arms around her, he kisses her neck and places his head over her shoulder, placing his face as close to me as her. His breathing matches her and I can feel the warmth from both of them.

I shiver inside from the feeling of his hands as he let his palms slip between me and her. Her eyes rolls and she utters a silky moan of pleasure as he enters her from behind. Through her body, I feel the impulse from his thrusts.

Faster.

Her soft skin rubs against me as I support her with my back against the wall and I feel drops of her sweat forming small currents on me.

Pounding.

He bares his teeth as he approaches his climax. Harder. My exhilaration knows no borders. I am stimulated. I am stiff. I feel like I could explode. I feel like I could break into pieces. Or melt from the heat.

Screaming.

Spasms run through her body. Eyes closed, she screams out her pleasure and drops her face on me. I feel her vibrant orgasm and reach my own climax. Caught a bit off guard, a final plunge from him makes me lose balance and as he pulls her slightly away from me, I drop to the floor.

Falling.

Back scrapes against the wall. Far below I can see how the floor gathers strength in anticipation of the blow from my fall.

Closer.

I hear the laughter from my companions; the warmth from their heavy breathing is fading away. They look away, letting my fall go unnoticed. Moments before I am about to hit the floor, I see how their lips meet in a passionate kiss. Want to scream - but I cannot. Want to cry - but I have no tears.

Impact.

I hear the sound of it, before I feel it; the crack, the fracture, an explosion that involves my entire presence. Bright colors. Rays of light. Spinning, flinging. She surrounds me. He is laughing. So many pictures. A shattered image of our temple. A kaleidoscope vision of the world.

*

Dawn breaks. A thousand suns shine through a thousand windows. One by one they disappear as parts of me are shuffled to darkness. Sharp edges of broken glass distort the impression of her. No, the impressions of her. Thousands of her, moving in tandem, performing a joyful dance and giving me shelter, piece by piece.

*

Again I am one. One little piece of me that her caring hands have missed. Again I am hidden in a corner, curiously observing the world around me. Investigating human nature. Finding pleasure in her doings; how she moves, the rhythm of her breathing at night, her erotic adventures, her clothing, the attention she gives to the little details. Feeling joy from the melody of her humming as she attaches a new mirror on the wall.