Nikki Gemmell - I Take You - Part 2 of 3

Connie takes her leave, her heart singing from a strange haunting, brightness bleeding from a swiftly shutting sky as she brusques her way home.

Home. Such a generous word for such a shell of a place.

The older one grows, the more one likes indecency

Cliff could never choose this moment, never dare to presume. No man ever could. The mysterious alchemy of attraction, that moment of combustion when all else is forgotten, rubbed out. The animal desire to fuck one person, just one, with driven intent; and utterly, completely, with every bone in your body, not another. The men over the years never got that. Thought they could bend her, change her, break her down, but it is there from the first moment or it is not. Just as they never got that Connie wanted absolutely no talk over the lovemaking, ever; for she needed to imprint her particular narrative upon the process, be alone with her own, quite separate scenario in her head.

That, of course, was one thing that Cliff did come to understand – that he had become a facilitator, nothing else. In their grand and complicit experiment.

But now this.

The world wavered and quivered and threatened to burst into flames

The moon is the colour of old bone that night as Connie stands bold, bared, in front of her full-length mirror. The Anglepoise lamp is glaring fully at her nakedness. She looks at herself, in coldness, in dismay. How odd the human body is in hard light. Frail, ugly, vulnerable, breakable, freckled and crumpled and dimpled; pulsingly primed for its biological purpose, as if it exists for that and that alone and she shivers at the thought.

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