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April 05, 2014

Cold Asian Night Kisses

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She had asked him to leave the curtain open while he took the shower. The bedroom and the bath were only separated by a wide window through which she could now see him covered on soap and he could watch her laying on the bed. Dressed only by that mysterious smile.
The same smile that had hypnotised him some hours earlier during the dinner with that Asian city at hundreds of meters below them. She didn’t need to wear anything while she smiled, and a man needed all kind of shields when the smile disappeared. He had never felt more naked in public than seconds after she erased it and a serious expression with her lips not completely closed followed. The ambiguous expression that may invite a man to kiss a woman or warn him to stay away.
Now, with the hot water, hitting his eyes, that moment looked like ages ago in the past. For once in his life he had been brave enough and his reward was now looking at him from the bed while he could only feel that he was getting into troubles. The familiar feeling of fragility, intensified by his nudity, so weak and so meaningless compared to hers.
He closed his eyes for a second to rinse the soap in his eyes, and when they opened again she saw her near the window, standing in front of him, with only the thick cold glass, covered on steam now, between her body and his fears. She approached, leaned and, still looking at his eyes, kissed the glass. A long, warm and distant kiss.
Days after, already far from that Asian room, during his nights in hotels at this side of the world, that kiss would torture him. It would come back as a short knife every time he took a warm shower or he looked at a different girl laying under his sheets. It was only one of the thousand kisses that they exchanged that night, but the glass between them, the image of her body at only some millimetres from his skin and the feeling of the bracket that it was closing made it be the most exciting memory of the night. The intense momentary feeling that it could be it. That finally the pieces of the puzzle were falling at the right place and that maybe, just maybe, he had reached the end of the road. Sunrise reminded him however that those lips were just the price of freedom and the cost of flying high enough to follow smiles that end up in cold kisses on a glass.

Posted by antonio at 03:35 PM | Comments (0)