What To Say To: “Do You Want To Fuck?”
Yes? No. Maybe, don’t ask me because I’m not so sure.

My jabs connect with the punching bag. My favorite move Isle has taught me is the punch that slides into an elbow hit. It’s, of course, one of the dirty moves he showed me but doesn’t use himself. My breath comes out in rapid pants as I keep pummeling it. This is something that has been missing from my life that is a needed relief.
“Always aim for the center. And breathe through your nose and then out real fast. Like this.”
He breathes in and releases the breath in short expels. Isle takes a turn hitting at the large bag. His movements are within a quick succession. Like an animal looking to stun its prey before going in for the kill. I admire his punches and he moves away from the bag for me to give it a try.
I’m conscious of how hard I’m breathing. I try taking a deep breath through my nose and notice the congestion.
“My allergies are flaring up so that whole breathing through the nose thing is just not working,” I admit.
I’ve fallen out of my easy rhythm with my hits. My fists connect with the punching bag and I’m thankful for the huge gloves protecting them. The bag bounces away from every one of my attacks with a sudden jump. I’m too self conscious of my breathing and point my hands back to him in an obvious please help me get these off gesture.
He smiles at me in that boyish way. That grin which is so pronounced, and such a genuine smile. I swear his brown eyes light up every time he grins at me in that way. It’s one of the reasons why I enjoy his company and I’m alone in his apartment.
I’m suddenly aware of this fact and look at him. He’s tall and incredibly lanky, all legs, arms, and endless back. He has two to three inches on me which someone being taller than me always fascinates me. His stances are always relaxed, confident, but not in any way that’s overtly cocky. Isle has dark skin and large, almond shaped brown eyes that glimmer with this hidden intelligence.
I think it’s why I approached him the first time he called out to me. I could tell he had that worldly, old soul quality about him.
There’s a part of me chastising myself for being alone with another man. I’ve had a small track record of this, but my sexual nature generally makes things… interesting.
He gently removes the gloves from my hands. I follow his lead as he goes into the apartment and grabs some stuff inside of the kitchen. I see him rolling something together and he licks the edges to bind it.
“Its better outside if I smoke, come on out with me. I have a hammock.”
“I’ve never been in a hammock before.”
He looks me over incredulously and I start hysterically laughing. The way he observes me is if I have two heads suddenly. He opens the porch’s sliding glass door and it’s a compact space with the length of fabric for the hammock stretches out in a thin line.
I’m immediately conscious of how close we’re going to be in this area. He doesn’t seem to care or act self conscious at all that we’re touching again. Our shoulders brush against each other as he sets up the hammock.
“In the islands we’re constantly on hammocks. Spread your legs like this and I’ll hold it down. Then sit down in it, okay?”
He instructs me with that same older confidence that speaks like he’s ten years older than his twenty year age. I trust him and straddle in between the skinny fabric. He holds it down and I sit down quickly. At the same moment Isle plops down.
The thing bounces suddenly and I let out a squeal. My enclosed hands go up to my chest.
“Oh, fuck this is cool!”
He chuckles to himself and shakes his head at me. The joint he rolled is lit up and he takes a deep breath. Isle offers it to me to try and I shake my head.
“Nah, I never need any kind of stimulant. I’m always too stimulated anyways.”
He gives a shrug with his shoulders. Our legs touch each other and his long legs bump into mine. It’s oddly comfortable and relaxing being in the hammock with him. We face each other and I stare at him.
People are surprised I’ve never tried smoking. Or, by the fact that I’ve never tried pot a day in my life. I’m overly sensitive to touch, sound, and the world in general so I don’t like to play with things that alter my perception of it.
We talk about his boxing and he says how he does it to help with his anger and emotions. I remember how my pillow became my punching bag more times than I can count. He breathes in a deep breath of the joint and the wind carries it into my face.
It’s my first time smelling this in person and it’s more of a herbaceous scent than anything. He apologizes for it billowing into my face and I wave my hand at him. Isle breathes an appreciative sigh and we relax together watching the people in our apartment complex together.
“What’s some of your favorite things you miss about being on the Island you grew up on?”
“Sailing, loved that shit. I miss walking on the beach every morning as the sun came up.”
His face gets this caught in the past, nostalgic look to it. I smile as he gets up first from the hammock and he holds it down for me. I pop up like a fishing bobber held under the water’s surface. He laughs at my sudden jumping up.
Isle sits on the couch first, and I put an ample amount of space between us. He pats the space closer to him with one of his wide mouthed grins.
“Come on over, don’t be all the way over there.”
“Oh, I bet you want me to come over,” I mumble softly.
He gives me this look and I inch my way closer to him. I’ve noticed that when I stretch my back he’s stared at my ass when we were at the counter again. I’d straighten my back and keep from sticking it out there inadvertently.
The whiteness in his eyes takes on a red edge and he seems incredibly calm, even more so than usual. We talk about boxing, life in general, and he cracks me up consistently. I hit him in the stomach and pause with a confused look.
“That… doesn’t feel right. What did you do? What’s wrong with this?”
My head turns slightly and I touch the area where his rib is. It feels off center, and like I hit concrete instead of soft human flesh. Isle lifts up his shirt and moves to take it off. He touches the area where I was inspecting and runs his fingers over it. I can see that a major injury happened there.
“You’re right, motorcycle accident and I nearly died. Ribs broken, ankle broken, they had to stick a pen in my lung area to drain it or else I’d die. Luckily the nurse was quick thinking because hospital shit on the island takes forever to get to it.”
He goes into his phone and scrolls through pictures. There’s one of him in a neck brace grinning at the camera. He has a thumbs up and I shake my head at him.
“Seriously, Isle, look at you! You’re near death and like hey guys… it’s good.”
He laughs and throws his head back. My hands can’t help but to trace the lines of his broken ribs. I inspect the other side and feel the edges of it in comparison.
“I was like fuck… I missed my English composition test! But the teacher felt bad and just gave me a B. I hated English because there’s a different between American and British.”
I laugh and he tells me about how much he loved that motorcycle. But, he can’t get back into it because the crash was that terrifying and painful. His knees are fucked up from it as well. He tells me about a shoulder injury since he was into football as well as boxing. The way he talks about football his face lights up and he gets animated with his hand gestures.
“You loved sports, I can tell. And you are a special sort of something, mister.”
“Is that a good thing? A special sort of something you say? I’m not sure how to take that.”
He chuckles to himself and sinks deeper into the couch. I bring a hand to my chin and rub the area lightly. It’s a thoughtful gesture as I try to think of how to explain it.
“In my context, it’s a great thing. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”
He puts a hand on my leg and I stare down at it. There’s this testing smirk that he has and I quirk an eyebrow at him.
“Hmmm, and look at you with those tiny little shorts. There’s just the hint of a little bit of cheek showing.”
His large hand slides onto my leg. It moves underneath me and gives my ass a gentle caress. I bop him with a well aimed hit in his chest. He gives it a quick squeeze before returning it back to himself.
“It’s hot outside, come on! I don’t walk around the apartment complex in shorts thinking oh damn. I’m just so irresistible right now it’s more like keep from sweating crazy.”
“Why can you touch me and I can’t touch you, huh?” He says. There’s this playful edge he takes on and he gets down on his knees in front of me. I grin at him and he pokes me on different sides. I throw my hands in the air and kick my feet up.
“I’ll keep my hands to myself!”
He looks at me with this look we’ve been sharing occasionally. It’s that look of why aren’t we tussling together? And I know my answer, because we’re too physically close together.
“I’m curious about fucking you. Never had a cat from where you live. And, the last girl I was with she was like fuck me with your big bean stalk or some shit like that.”
I laugh at Isle stating the obvious. The thought has come across my mind how we would work, but I know I can’t cross that line. I’ve never met anyone in my same apartment complex and I feel like that’s playing with fire.
I like seeing people and then having them distanced away from me that I have a break in seeing them. I already know which car is his. It’s an ancient green truck with work tools in the trunk. When I go on my walks I tell myself to ignore looking for it. All I want is to get my workouts in and dance outside.
“Huh, I’m sure you want to fuck me. And Really? That’s fucking weird, what did you do?”
“Oh, damn, I didn’t know what to think of fuck me with your big bean stalk, never heard of that shit. But, I sure did fuck her harder.”
He ends up with his hand on my leg again. It’s not unwelcome, but I know where it’ll lead if I don’t stop us now. His hand glides down to my ass again. He points out the fact that they’ve rolled up to show more of my thigh. I look away from him and smile.
He squeezes the cheek and my grin grows. My head bows and my shoulder length hair falls in front of my face. I push him in the chest a little and he returns his hand to himself. I notice he’s now clasping his hands together on top of his chest.
“Trying to keep yourself from grabbing my ass?”
“You could say that. What’s your reason for the saying no to fucking? You tell me these stories and I’m like why aren’t we getting together? It’s my age isn’t it, you think I’m too young or something?”
I move my shoulders up and down as I look at him. He’s always appeared to me that he’s my age since we’ve met. There’s this maturity about him even though he has a quick fire tongue with an amazing intelligence to back it. He comes up with come backs he tells me about that makes even my fast no bullshit delivery system seem slow.
“Nah, not your age. Honestly, I’m so exhausted right now I don’t think I’d be any good. And… just trying to be well behaved with you.”
I’m tempted to lie next to him, closer, on the couch. I especially enjoy lying on a man’s chest on the area I’ve deemed ‘the nook.’ It’s the crook area where the shoulder and arm join.
“Well, I may not be that great myself, since this shit has chilled me out. But, you love to fuck. I love to fuck. Seems like a good thing.”
He shrugs his shoulders with a what you’re gonna do motion. I run my fingers through my hair and make a conscious note not to pull it. I always get in trouble once a man deciphers that this is a sexual trigger for me.
We stare at each other but he remains somewhat behaved. I’m tempted to feel his ribs again and to touch his skin. There’s scars on his body from the one major accident where I feel like tracing them. I decide since he’s being so direct I might as well too.
“It’s more than that though, besides me having a cat you haven’t experienced. And us both enjoying fucking. You like me, don’t you, Isle?”
He looks at me with this boyish, somewhat bashful charm. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look shy like he does in this moment. He doesn’t say yes, but rather nods and puts his hand behind his head.
I realize he piques my curiosity and this is always a dangerous thing. Which is why I’m with him in this space. It’s just with our close proximity of living in the same apartment complex I know we need to keep things at only a slightly flirtatious basis.
I consciously tell myself to follow my guidelines I’ve set. But, I can’t help the pull my lips create when he nods his head that I’m right.
