How to fly
You know, I’ve always wanted to fly; the world at my feet as I fly through the air at the speed of sound without a care in the world; maybe I’ll come back as a bird, if I’m lucky.
So, how does one fly without wings? That was my thought as I laid naked on my back, alone, looking up at the stars through the sky-lights of my bedroom ceiling from my four-poster double bed, wishing I could kiss the sky.
* * *
“You don’t look like the type to me.”
“The type? What’s that supposed to mean? What does the type look like exactly?”
He studied me for a moment with a careful eye. “I don’t know-” he shrugged, “a little rougher round the edges maybe. You’re too clean cut, you have those kind eyes and that look; like butter wouldn’t melt… like a charity worker or something. All you’re missing is a halo and you’d look like a saint.” I sniggered.
“I’ll take that as a compliment Jones.”
I studied my compatriot’s face in greater detail for the first time since arriving. His untelling and blank expression gave way to a mischievous smile, the devilish twinkle in his eyes caught my attention.
“What, what is it?” he demanded. As if I’d looked deep into his soul and pulled from the recesses, his deepest, darkest secret.
“Well don’t take this the wrong way Jones, but you do look like the type.”
It wasn’t that he looked like a criminal, no. He just had the aspect of a man with a dark side; not evil, merely a connoisseur of life. I could tell he knew as much as I how to enjoy the finer things in life, both the good and bad.
He was beaming now; almost proud of the fact. “I suppose you’re right” he agreed with casual admittance.
* * *
Once the initial seed of thought had rooted in my mind, the fully fledged idea began to sprout with the alarming pace of a genetically enhanced, mutant weed and I was enlightened as to how I could fly; not only did it grip every inch of my conscious mind but the creeping vines invaded my subconscious and strangled my restless dreams.
I happened upon her by chance, she was beautiful, elegant and sleek; what made it easier, I knew where she lived or at least where she stayed most of the time. I found the prospect of making her mine for one night only a deliciously arousing fantasy. At first I could only observe her from afar, flirting with the idea and as the weeks passed I grew in confidence; what was once an occasional passing was now an extended daily visit.
* * *
“So why did you do it?” he curiously asked.
“The thrill.”
“An expensive thrill, given the price.”
“Come on Jones. The higher the risk the higher the thrill. You know that.”
“What’s wrong with you Billy? Can’t you just take drugs like a normal person?”
“What can I say? I guess I’m just a fucked up guy. I used to take drugs; they complimented my sex addiction, but in the end I was never happy. You know how it goes, it’s the bottomless pit, the void that can’t be filled; besides, I was never addicted to the drugs.”
“You’re a sex addict as well? Shit Billy, you’re an interesting guy but maybe you are a little fucked up. Did your father beat you as a child or something?”
“No, my father wasn’t really that interesting. In fact, he was almost a perfect father; he fucked off and left my mother to raise three children by herself.”
“Ah, daddy issues. I get it, you lacked a male role model.”
I could barley hide my amusement at his assessment and with a smirk I said, “You didn’t tell me you were a psychologist in your past life Jones. No, it’s not my father’s fault that I’m a sex addict or that I did what I did. I came to terms with my father being a prick a long time ago… and don’t you dare ask if I have an oedipal complex.”
* * *
I had always been a creature of the night, it was written into my DNA; the joke of my very existence was that in my case ATGC stood for Addicted To Getting Coochie; I guess nature has a sick sense of humour.
My planned visits mainly took place at dusk; occasionally I would see her during the day in passing, but that was mere coincidence, a side effect of living close by, two intertwined objects in a dance of fate. I have to admit that she was more attractive to me at night, ripe for the plucking; maybe it was the animal in me, drawn out by the moonlight.
If I’d planned to see her and she wasn’t there I felt enraged, jealous even. Much worse, I once saw her as she was driven past me by another man, for whom I felt utter contempt; I knew she had a life but as it was flaunted in front of me I could only want her more.
* * *
The sun had almost completed it’s descent; on the horizon the wispy grey and white clouds floating in the sky’s pale blue ocean had fiery sun-kissed edges.
Tonight was the night; I could wait no longer, I’d take her tonight.
I strolled gently towards her house with butterflies in my stomach and a multitude of feelings; my initial excitement was ousted by apprehension and fear that we may be seen together, that all would not go to plan.
* * *
“Have you ever enjoyed the look on the face of another man’s wife as you climax in perfect synchronicity Jones-”
“Not in a while.”
“in the bathroom of a crowded bar, while her husband stares into his drink as he waits alone for her return?”
“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”
“It’s a similar high, pure adrenaline fuelled, animalistic passion in the heat of the ecstatic moment. “
“I see what you mean.”
* * *
I approached her house and there she was outside, in all her splendour, dressed in red, waiting to be taken away. One last look around revealed no onlookers and without a word I examined every inch of her curvy body; she was still. Despite the partial, moonlit cover of darkness, my heart was pounding as I fumbled my pocket for the length of electrical cable I’d prepared; everything was in place. The joy was mine as I jumped upon her back to the sound of an unnoticed scream that briefly breached the peace of the night.
* * *
“How did you feel?”
“Last night I felt alive. For the first time in my life, free, like I could fly. It was truly euphoric.”
“You know what they say Billy, ‘what goes up, must come down’. Do you remember how you got here?”
* * *
The light was on red but I tore through anyway and glanced at the speedometer, sixty-three miles per hour and rising; it felt faster, I was tingling and my mind was racing. I gave a look left into the mirror and then into the right, nothing, no blue lights, nothing. I had escaped the scene.
I noticed her screaming die down as I changed gears and turned my attention to the open road and the whizzing street lights passing me by on either side, blurring my peripheral vision. Bliss; my mind was emptying now; in my bubble of contentment time stood still, with the world at my feet and the cool summer night air caressing my face I felt at peace as if nothing else existed.
Before I knew it I was on the edge of town, on autopilot, eating up curvaceous country roads at what felt like the speed of light. Imagine my surprise as the bike slid from under me and I slid painfully into black.
* * *
“You know Billy, you really should wear a helmet if you’re going to joy ride another man’s motorcycle into the night.”
I was humbled by flashes of my last night’s escapade and Jones’ air of smugness, like a man in the know, left me feeling two-feet tall.
Utterly bemused I stuttered, “how…how did you? Who are you?”
Jones flashed a brief smile that collapsed rapidly into a stern look of undoubtable seriousness, looked me square in the eyes and said, “think back Billy, over your life, over your sins and take one guess.”
