Mouse on a Bench

“So will you run away with me, Georgie? Will you be my loyal companion and show me everything there is to see in America?” Per asks as we stare out at the evening, the passing cars, the pedestrians and their love affairs with their cells.

“First off, that makes me sound a bit like a golden retriever. But, you know, I really can’t,” I say. “I will probably get my ass kicked for saying this, but you should disappear. Do you have a way to disappear?”

Ah, here I am, aiding and abetting. I wonder if this will hurt getting my record erased. I don’t even know this guy, but anyone fighting for the environment with plastic guns and confetti can’t be all that bad, right? Or am I losing it. I’m probably losing it.

He nods, but looks at me with disappointment. “You and me, we coulda been great…”

“Is that from a movie?”

“Maybe our movie, Georgie. Maybe we’ll meet again in the future.”

He stands, blond and lanky, and disappears into the night. Almost immediately the exit doors open and people ooze forth. Their voices are raised. They’ve had quite an experience, something they’ll be talking about for a long time. Dinner conversation during lulls.

Tom sees me and I almost think it’s relief I see on his face. He even grabs me and hugs me. Very un-Tom-like.

“What’s going on?” I ask into his chest while breathing in the scent of him. Slowly he releases me and examines my face. It’s not a sexy look. It’s far too brotherly and disappointing.

“I thought you’d been kidnapped.”

“He was a nice guy.”

“He was a kidnapper.”

“Tomatoes, tomahtoes,” I say and turn slightly away to stare at the people exiting the building.

Our agents emerge and the paunchy bald man is with them in handcuffs. I raise an eyebrow at Tom.

“What happened?”

“Britt wanted them to go lenient on her so she put the explosive vest on Brewster and threatened to explode him if he didn’t confess to trafficking.”

“Huh.”

“She even started trying to activate it. He confessed immediately. She was pissed because the vest wouldn’t explode, but there was a stand-by on the vest that she pulled. The vest was filled with confetti. Can you believe that?”

I grin. Why, yes, I could.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“Not so much.”

“So the night was a success, strangely enough,” Tom says.

I survey his bloodied face, his swollen eye. He’s definitely looked better, and yet…

“Do you need to go to the hospital?”

He touches his eye. “Over this? Of course not. I’ll be fine.”

I stand on my tiptoes and kiss the corner of his mouth. He turns his face and kisses me on the lips, his tongue finding mine, a caress that makes me grip him harder, push my body against his until we mold together. I hold on tight, knowing this will last just a moment, until his brain kicks in and he thrusts me aside. But I do hold on for all that I’m worth. I taste him, the cabernet. My lips move to his neck. I inhale his aftershave as my lips moves over the stubble that jags against my tongue. He squeezes me. And then he lets me go. As I knew he would. And, I think that this is like a taste of water in the desert and that soon, very, very soon, I will drink my fill.

10/16/2017

Sascha Darlington