Her dilated pupils hearkened back to an age of wonderment, agonizing in its unfamiliarity. Was she perhaps under the influence of a brilliant peruvian drug? Her azure eyes shivered in a terrified paroxysm of confusion, beckoning me to take another look, to really see...to see her slender ivory fingers clenched , grasping her Kabalistic words, words meant for me, words I am supposed to be conscious of. Messages that I would grab out of the smoke she blew, propositions in the form of sauntering hands, advancing to their partner in a coital tango. We danced.
Her hands were vibrant and warm as they caressed my side, with her fingers interlocking in my valley of ribs. Our hands clumsily cavorted to the arabesques of our voices, leaving us with nothing, no utterances of passions, just deep-rooted sighs resonating against the walls, reverberating the yells from minutes before.
I looked at her. Her hands were half-hidden underneath the bed sheets, and despite our avid embraces, in my exasperation I knew nothing.