I bent over her. She looked at me fixedly with her interrogative eyes. I could
not resist very long to the fascination she inspired me. I was going to answer
to her desires and plunge ourselves into games, which she did not suspect the
amplitude.
-"Have you ever love?" I asked her while my fingers traveled slowly on her
skin, sweeping the grains of sand caught over her clammy flesh, my fingers
pressed her flesh, waking, I could sense it, shudders which she had never
experienced before, at the tip of my fingers I felt like she was alluring.
- "What is love?" She ask in a whispering tone.
I closed by her face, I could feel she was slightly timorous. I approached delicately my
face close to her face and, without precipitating my gesture, I deposited a kiss on
her lips. I could not stop these games any more. I stayed there for a long
moment, exercising only a weak pressure, her lips opened slowly, her breath
filtered through my lips impregnating my mouth with a warm atmosphere, her
chest swollen with cramps, lifted itself up touching my bare flesh. It was
already too late, I could not stop these games any more.
-"You spoke to me of love, is it what love is?"
I did not expect this question from her. It was still time to abandon, it was
still time to remove my fingers from this harmless girl's body; it was still
time to stop these games, my games, which were not her games, the games which
she had imagined and for which we were there both of us, naked as if we were
going to consume ourselves in love, it was still time to stop these games. I
had to explain to her, what love is, this strange drive that binds you and
which you would want to be eternal. I had to explain why I was going
to leave her, in spite of this drive that binds us in love.
How can I explain these things, love and freedom also.
- "I love what you do to me," she says," if this is what is love, then you
love me?"
Slowly she moved her lips closer to my lips and began again this strange game
she just discovered, she was now the leader of the game, investigating
new avenues that woke sensations in herself, for such a long time, sleeping
into her genes and which showed up by sudden muscular tensions and
audacious gustation hungriness.
-"This is what is love," I told her, "it is the union of our two different
bodies, it is this complementary attraction of our opposite forces, it is also
the fire from our souls which are so similar."
I found at the bottom of my memory, these too literary definitions to explain
the inexplicable, what was occurring, without necessary having to explain what
was occurring, the inexplicable miracle of love.
And quite naturally, without it being necessary to explain, my lips began a
precarious journey over her flesh, I reached her bosoms, those little
bloatedness decorated with small papillae's which my mouth gulped down as if
they were only cherries. I continued my investigation, her hands pressing my
head guiding me in an initiation journey which she accepted with grace; I
left all along this sinuous journey, saliva's which hung on to the exgrowths
of her clammy flesh, I reached the mysterious cavern where must have been
buried her mysteriously secret "yoni" of virgin girl.
I stayed like so, my lips plated on her vaginal lips which discreetly opened
up, letting escape perfumes of humus which I inhaled as if they were exotic
flavors. My mind vacillated. I spread my tongue through the narrow opening,
scrutinizing the sinuous internal walls of her vagina, discovering its strange
harshness, tasting surprising foams and propping up myself into an enigmatic
membrane which seemed to forbid me any deeper investigation of this still
virgin cavern, which had never been visited before.
My mind vacillated under indescribable fancies. Fantasies, imaginary florae's,
unknown smells, carnal fusions, charming complaints, strange dialects,
delicious priapées, hallucinating orgasms, my petrified lingam, laves in
fusion, suspended moment, my body which rocked, which rocked, which rocked, my
unstable mind ............. I do not remember everything any more.
I woke up in burst. The ground was trembling. I was laying down, naked on the
cold sand of the desert, it was already daylight. My mysterious visitor had
disappeared.
There was an immense green lorry immobilized near my camping-car. There were
two men, Arab lorry drivers. They had dragged my camping-car on the hard
track. They never did it before, but they took this route and could not
explain the reason why. I told them about the Tarqui girl, they did not saw
her. When I brought them beyond the dune, they saw the traces of the
lovemaking that occurred there. They laughed at me. They were a bit boorish.
Then we followed the footsteps drawn into the sand, the frail footsteps which
start there and rose to the summit of the dune, then they evaporated in
an inexplicable way, leaving only two deep imprints in the sand. All around,
there was nothing more. The unlimitedness of the desert and the repetitive
graffiti's left by the wind onto the sand.
- "Then, it was that, the little Frenchman fucked his guardian angel?"
And they laughed at me.
Marco Polo ou le voyage imaginaire (Contes et légendes arabes, translated from french, mars 1997, revision avril 1998) © 1996 Jean-Pierre Lapointe
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