A Visit to the Beech Hotel

You wouldn’t think with my violent history that I’d miss working the streets but I do.  I used to love hugging the brick walls in the late evening, my fingers feeling each gap in the mortar coursing, just waiting under the soft orange glow of the overhead lights.  I owned those streets, even if I disappeared for an hour or two in-between my mute watch.  You wouldn’t believe it but I felt a silent power in my prostate prose: I was in charge, I was the one you gave the money to.

Reading this I know you’ll disagree, you’ll think I’m daft or stupid – misguided at best, abused at worst.

I remember you well in the crowned hotel suite.  It wasn’t the city setting or tipping of the concierge that impressed me, it was your wry smile, the hand holding and the delicate kisses.  It was the dream that I lived in this moment for much longer than those dollar bills suggested.  I knew I’d return to my own corner soon enough, that I’d feel the sharp edge of a winter’s night once more plucking at my pale skin, but in that moment I didn’t care.

You gave me a way out of this job and I took it.  But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss those streets even as you returned home after a hard day of work at the office.  I am chained here, just as I was to those bricks.

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A Home is Not a House, it is a Person

A scene I never finished…..

The cold winter nights were reaching their apex as the days withdrew inside themselves when she came down to the city to visit for the weekend.  Outside the train station, where the water cascaded down alongside the ramp and pooled to meet the large glass doors, he sat and waited for her to appear.  The clouds above had formed a grey mattress, hugging the city in its cold tight grip.  The warm, moist air, breathed out of those fast pumping lungs, turned to vapour as soon as it had left his warm lips.  He was nervous, as he twisted and turned, sat and squirmed.  He looked up and out over the city, sprawled out upon the hills above.  The station sat nestled in-between the rising hills, coupled by those flanking built up city banks.  The tallest tower loomed in the most metropolitan part, not more than a stones throw away.  It did not look warm or inviting, as a place to relax and to enjoy a few days grace, but rather smooth, cold and self-effacing, helping to echo his feelings for this city.

He shivered and checked his phone.  On it there was one message from her that stated that she would soon be arriving.

It was Friday night, and he noticed that the station was bustling with commuters as he wandered in to wait in the warmth.  Other people were lingering too, scanning each face that alighted from the waiting trains in the hope of looking for signs of their loved ones; here a man waiting expectantly, a phone clutched tight in his hand as he tapped his foot, and there a woman checking the electronic train times methodically, a nervous smile playing upon her face.  The coffee aroma from the nearby stall mixed openly with the smell of the travelers sweat in the station proper.  The odd pigeon could be seen dawdling, one foot gamely placed in front of the other, waddling in the search for food and warmth.

And suddenly, out of the mass of anonymous faces, she appeared.  Face beaming with a smile playing wide across her face, she took determined footsteps towards him.  Joy, tempered with relief, filled his soul.  A tight hug followed the smiles and kisses as they embraced.

The taxi ride back to the flat was one of warm glances, laughter, and tightly held hands as the misdirection’s flew between the driver and the passengers.  He was still amazed that the majority of taxi drivers of this city didn’t know where one of the most crowded student flats were located, but he could not have been happier.  It was to be a weekend of love, of shared showers, kisses and hugs of affection, sprinkled with orgasms between two shared passionate bodies.

The Friday night was one of sharing food, news and hugs, making up for lost time in the physical realm.  ‘I missed you’, she whispered into his ear as they hugged on the dilapidated bed, ‘I missed you too’.  A leg entwined here and a hand holding tight there, lips that met in the dark rosy glow of a renewed romance.

It was as if the academic world did not matter anymore, he was on a break from that self-contained way of life and he was here now to enjoy himself fully, to embrace the earthly, instead of esoteric, pleasures.  One look between the eyes was all that was needed, and all that was granted.

The lingering goodbye on the cold rain filled Monday morning was one of tender heartbreak.

Till the next time, till the last time.