As part of the A to Z Challenge, through the month of April I’ll be posting a story a day based on photographs by Joseph T. Richardson and prompts given to me by blog-friends.
Writing prompt: Kiss me if you can…
By then, I was too far gone.
I watched Susie paint her lips in a smudged hand mirror, sitting in my car. Her hair needed a comb, she needed someone to stop her, and I needed to be that man. Call it drink, call it being newly wed to a woman I wanted nothing to do with, but I had made up my mind. Don’t go, not tonight.
Don’t be daft. She opened her mouth, her spice-red lips, in a circle then a pout, turned this way and that, examining those lips I’d kissed not ten minutes ago. Her lips had flamed up with my kisses, why did she need more color?
Come on, what would a night hurt?
What about your wife? And do you think I do this cos I enjoy it?
She worked a roller on her short black wool skirt, stripping away bits of lint. I’d laid her up on one of the white tablecovers in the pantry, too much in a hurry, too desperate, too scared someone would find us. But that was not the only thing that made my heart gallop so hard.
We watched the train tracks that would lead her far away, and the tall fir trees that flanked it, straight and solemn like soldiers at a comrade’s funeral.
A row of fir had watched over us as we played together, Susie’s cousins and I, at the church garden that summer afternoon. We had all learned about a boy kissing a girl, and twelve-year-old Susie had volunteered to be that girl, as long as we struck to lips, no touching anywhere else.
I don’t remember our exact words, but I remember we asked why we would want that. Two years older than the eldest of us, Susie gave us a sly smile in response. Just like that, she said, but make sure you don’t forget.
And then she broke into a run, like a skittish colt across the green, Kiss me if you can, she sang, and turning, let out a shriek when we followed her. Did we catch her? Again, I do not remember.
But today, I wanted to catch her, hook her to me, keep her bound. I reached for her, but she had already opened the door. I could hear the rumble of the train on the tracks, its distant whistle.
She stepped out and ran, this time without looking back.
Are you taking part in the A to Z challenge? Do you read or write fiction? Ever write based on a prompt? Kisses you’d like to talk about? 🙂