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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Adult · #1972054
A short story made out of the blue.
A straight white line of smoke exits her mouth as she exhales, expanding in all directions in less than a blink of an eye just inches away from the woman’s full, red lips. Like a ghost it lingers over the dimmed yellow light of her desk lamp; it reminds her of the clouds she saw this afternoon before it suddenly rained. She passes the cigarette to the boy lying down next to her. He takes a hit, and coughs. The woman stares at the boy’s bare chest going up and down rhythmically. She becomes more and more aware of the ticking of the clock on the white wall adjacent to the bed, as well as the sound of rain hitting the window next to it. She gets off the bed and picks up her underwear from the floor and starts wearing them. The boy stares at her beautiful fully grown body, still holding the half-burnt cigarette. She jumps a little to keep her balance as she lifts her leg to wear her black panties.

He moves and seats at the edge of the bed, right behind her, and starts wrapping his arms around her slim waist, kissing her lower back passionately, pulling her into bed again. The woman turns and holds the boy’s cheeks and kisses him. Their foreheads and noses touch one another, and their eyes meet. She stares into the boy’s clear brown eyes. She really likes those wide and curious eyes.

“Isn't it time for you to go home?” she says. “Probably.” the boy replies. “I don’t want to leave yet; I’m waiting for the rain to stop.” The woman takes the cigarette from his fingers and sucks it. “That’ll take all night long.” she says as she exhales. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Your parents are going to be worried.”

“They don’t really care about me or what I do.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“I don’t want you to get into trouble.” she says.

“I’ll call them. I’ll tell them I’m spending the night at a friend’s place.”

“What about school tomorrow?”

“I’ll go.”

“I have to go too.”

“I’ll go with you then.”

“I don’t think so.”

They kiss again.

“Why not?” he asks.

“If you’re spending the night at a friend’s place it wouldn’t make much sense for you to be seen with me in the morning.”

“Nobody cares.”

“Someone might.”

“I’ll just tell anyone who asks that I bumped into you on my way to school.”

“Well, I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here for the night.”

“So you do want me to leave.”

“Yes, for the both of us.”

“Mostly for you.”

“Of course. I’m risking more than you. Much more.”

He kisses her.

“Don’t worry.”

“Well,” she stands up, off of his embrace, “I have the right to feel cautious.”

She walks toward the door that leads to the living room. “I’ll make you hot chocolate.” she says. “And then you head home.”

“You’re breaking my heart.”

“Cruel me.”

She exits the room. He can hear noises from the kitchen; utensils banging on each other, water pouring, cabinets opening and closing, the stove. He really doesn’t want to leave, partly because of the rain but especially because of her. He loves everything about her. He loves her smooth black hair, her skin, her legs, her breasts, her lips, her sensuous eyes. Even her mannerisms he find erotic; the way she moves and talks, the way she holds her cigarette. Every gesture is like a dance – graceful and delicate and sophisticated. She has class.

She comes back, holding a tray with two cups of steamy hot chocolate on it. “You look incredible in your underwear.” he says. “You’re so nice to me.” she says as she hands him a cup.

“It’s true.”

“Be careful, it’s hot.”

“Damn, it is hot. Shit.”

“Let it cool off for a minute. You don’t want to burn your tongue.”

They stare at each other silently. “What?” she asks. “You’re so pretty.” says the boy. She looks at the white bed sheet, smiling a little. “Oh, Rick.” she sighs. “Let me stay for the night.” Rick says.

“No, Rick.” she responds quickly.

“If I was older would you let me stay for the night?”

“Depends on how old we’re talking about.”

“Your age.”

“You’re adorable.”

“I’m serious.”

“That makes it even more adorable.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Sure, I’d even marry you.”

“Really?”

“Well, maybe not.” she laughs.

“I’d love to marry you.”

She laughs harder. “What?” Rick says, annoyed.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I've been married before. Marriage is complicated.”

“What’s so complicated about it?”

“At your age you shouldn't concern yourself with things like marriage. Just focus on dating girls. How many girls have you dated?”

“Including you? Just two.”

“So just one then.”

“You don’t consider me your boyfriend?”

“You’re my student, Rick.”

“So?”

“So we can’t date.”

“But we can have sex.”

“Oh, don’t be a smartass, you.” She sips her chocolate. “It’s cool enough to drink now.”

“What if I say I love you?”

“How about drinking your chocolate, and go?”

“Are you angry at me?”

“No, I’m not angry at you.”

A thunder roars somewhere, the rain pours harder. Rick blows the surface of his chocolate and takes a sip. “This is great.” he says.

“Love,” she says grimly, “isn't something you just say to someone so easily.”

“I know that.”

She stares at the window, at the rain, at the dancing tree branches beyond. She pulls out a cigarette from its pack, puts it on her lips and lights it. “What do you know about love?” she asks.

“Not much. I know when I’m in love. But I don’t think anyone knows what love is for sure. Nobody knows what the hell they’re doing. It’s something you feel, not know.”

“If only life works like that all the time.”

“What do you mean?”

“You want a cigarette?” she hands him the pack.

“No, thanks.”

“I mean, you can’t just live by feelings. Life makes you think about itself and everything else.”

“Life isn't love, though.”

“Love is part of life. It’s one of the things life makes you think about.”

“Ok then, what do you think love is?”

She glances at the clock. It’s ten after ten. In a way she really wants him to go home, but she actually really enjoys talking to her student. Her ex-husband and ex-boyfriend don’t know how to talk; they’re intelligent and handsome, but they lack this boy’s charm. They lack innocence and a sense of wonder. “True love is endurance.” she replies. “To be in love you require feelings of passion, which may come and go without any apparent reason; but without endurance it will just be that – feelings, nothing more. Real love is an amalgamation of time, effort, energy, and consistency. These are things someone your age lack.”

“What’s amalgamation?”

“Accumulation, combination; the sum of things.”

“But many adults lack those things too.”

“True.” she says, sipping her chocolate. “But if there was anyone with those qualities, he would be an adult.”

“So kids are incapable of love?”

“I didn't say that. You can be in love, but most likely it won’t be true love. It will be just a feeling.”

“I disagree.” he says. “Love is love. If you think about it, it won’t work. Love’s like music; you can either play it or think about it. Never both.”

“Wait about ten years and see if you still think the same way.”

“You’re so pessimistic.”

“I call it realistic. I've been through plenty of things before you could even crawl.”

“You should stop thinking every once in a while.”

“It’s nice being so young.” she says.

“Stop that!” Rick says. “You never take me seriously. You always act as if I’m some dumb kid who doesn't know shit.”

She looks at him. “No, I never think like that.” she says as she puts her cup on the desk next to the bed. “You misunderstood; I think you’re an incredibly bright young man. You’re much more mature than your contemporaries, and you’re very charming. What I mean is that when you’re young you tend to be overly idealistic and romantic – and I think that’s an incredible thing! I really do. I envy that, that idealism of yours. That lust for life. I used to be like you. But, time consumes people’s hearts.”

“I've been through a lot too, you know.” Rick says. “Just because you’re old, doesn't mean that you’re more experienced.”

“I’m sorry if I made you angry, Rick.”

Rick solemnly stares at her. There is an uncomfortable silence. “I’ll prove it to you.” he says. “I’ll show you that I’m not a kid.”

“Rick, look, I’m sorry – forget about all this, ok?”

Rick puts his cup on the desk, and grabs her by the shoulder.

End.
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