Saturday, May 7, 2016

Falling down

Even though we're on the edge of the ocean I'm the only one here that never goes swimming. It's not that I'm afraid of the currents or the waves, I just don't trust myself. When I was little in LA, even before my father died, I would go as far out toward the horizon as I could, just to feel what it would be like to never come back.

I did it with Chloe too, later, almost like a game we played in the dark when everyone else had gone home. Gin and medication made it even easier, we would hold hands under the surface and watch the moonlight in each others eyes until we were warm enough to swim back to the shore and the sand and the city.

Last night I woke up early and went down to that little stretch of beach just beneath the house. I stepped out of my shoes and walked slowly in to the ocean as if in a dream, so far I had to hold my summer dress up over my thighs, the cold water touching me between my legs like a skillful tongue. I've learned that nothing really compares to being just inches away from letting go completely.





Sunday, May 1, 2016

Farewell to arms

He calls me "l'américaine" because he's dying to fuck me but doesn't want her to know. She sees him looking at me and calls me "la putain" because she feels threatened. I've never spoken to them but I hear them arguing through the walls almost every night before they go to bed as enemies.

It's never my intention to get in between people this way, but knowing I can still turns me on. It's my weakness more than theirs but some vices aren't worth fighting. I tried it once and it made me unhappy, much like the time I decided to drink nothing but vodka cocktails for an entire month.

People are starting to recognize me in the village too, the pale foreign girl in her black dresses and sun bleached hair. If I get too close to them I'll want to leave, so I keep my distance just in case. Summer is almost here and the nights are warm and calm and quiet.



Sunday, April 24, 2016

Fire and salt

The season here smells of flowers and dust but no salt though we're close to the ocean. Miramar was very different, at least in that sense.

My neighbors, the young French couple, leave with lightly packed bags every weekend, early in the morning or just before lunch. They'll return tomorrow and I'll be the first thing they see when they do. I always loved playing these little games with others, not in spite of them getting me in to trouble but because of it. Chloe is the only person that ever understood that side of me.

She never came to our summer house even though I asked her to a hundred times. It was always just us and Belle and her family, and later Carl. The three of us would sneak out at late as we could and go in to the woods, each time a little further than the last. The moon would guide us to the perfect places, but nothing made me shiver more than discovering that old empty house. I knew from the first time I saw it what was going to happen there. What I was going to do to him.












Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Homework

The young couple next door. Teasing him is too easy but I don't do it for him. It teases her too but this is strictly for myself, so I'll remember what holding back when I want something really felt like. I've done it before but not as of lately, so I definitely need the practice.

They pass by my patio in the afternoon and every time I feel them glancing at me in the corners of their eyes, laying flat on my back on a bath sheet. How they both pretend like they're not watching. Her: not with envy but to make sure I don't follow him for too long. Him: with a subtle hint of desperation ever since he noticed that my bikini isn't a bikini but matching powder pink underwear from Marlies Dekkers.

I know by the way she squeezes his hand as they pass that she's seen it too, it's the finest part of my day since I cut the 3 o'clock glass of Champagne. My frustration afterwards would be easily cured but instead I wait for them to return an hour later, hands still firmly gripped around my thighs. It's painless torture for all of us but I need it, if I ever want to learn.










 

Saturday, April 9, 2016

Our honeymoon

I have two neighbors here, an elderly lady and a French couple in their late twenties. The boy is handsome, he could do better than her but holds her hand and calls her chéri as if he's really in love.

He came by one day asking for a screwdriver (not the drink), I answered the door in my underwear and acted embarrassed when he stared at my plum colored balconette bra. Since then I know he wants to fuck me but I'm not here to make friends. I stay away from temptations even when I think that she might want it too.

Meanwhile, S tells me that Henry left Paris and went back to LA. "A friend saw him at Wilshire Boulevard" she says, "he looked heartbroken". She calls me on a landline phone in the kitchen, I sit with my legs crossed on the wooden floor and listen to her talk och breathe and laugh. She's the only person I'd want to see right now.






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