“She could feast heartily at the table of love without reflecting that some other had already been, or hereafter might be, feasted with the same repast.” – Tom Jones, 420
Monday during class Daphne and I sat together. Things were calm but the sexual tension built when I let it. After class we walked to the subway together and I was thinking about what next, what next. I told her I’d written a couple of sonnets. She twittered with her hands and said, are they looooove sonnets? Read them!
After the first she hugged me and said, is that about me? Gabriel you’re so sexy and strong and she squeezed my latissimus dorsi. She said, let’s go back to my place.
That’s when it got good.
After the first time she got sad and when I pressed her on it she asked about that girl I had gone home with on Halloween. I said that was my friend’s sister and I was just taking her out, and I was wishing I was with you the while. Then I changed the subject to make it seem like I was concealing something (as payback) and asked about Wolfgang Modiq.
She said he was some jerk who she’d gone out with on a few dates and that now it doesn’t matter. I acted hurt and she told me the story of her going to his house for dinner and how he hit her. There were tears in her eyes and it felt so good to hold her in my arms when she made herself small and held my hands and I kissed her salty cheeks and turned her around and told her not to worry that I’d always be here and she kissed me hard and…