soffia had come with friends but where were they now? sea of bodies, it's four thirty, it's five a.m. mouse plays enjoy the silence and soffia feels a well open in her heart. a single tear falls for all the lovers, all the swirling bodies that surround her. her hands lift into the air in a slow dance of their own as her hips feel out the song...all I ever wanted, all I ever needed is here, in my arms, her arms touch the sounds and the light but grasp nothing. she is alone and one with it all, she lifts her head as if to an unknown whisper and gazes at the disco ball for answers to this night.
as she watches the tiny glittering mirrors, each a truth, she feels a hand take hold of hers. slowly she looks to the person who has touched her. he's young, scruffed, handsome, with a hint of disregard, and earthy element, something of the unremarkable and constant about him. he might smell of metal or of fresh turf or like the sea air. in this first moment soffia catches a glimpse of something familiar, a flash of light that makes him both apart from most men and somehow known to her. he lifts her hand to spin her, but she says, no, please and looks away again, disappointed. she takes her hand from his and thinks he’ll walk away, for there’s no time to be wasted on pretty girls who say no with so precious few moments left of the night.
he stays though. he takes her hand again, takes both her hands, and lifts them each to his lips softly and with care. she turns her face to him again and sees now what it was that glinted so familiarly. he wears two bands, one on each hand, two heavy silver bands that speak some truth to her, though of what she doesn't know. come with me, he asks. no, please, i can’t soffia replies, diverting her eyes from his. she thinks he will go away, chase other girls, but he doesn't and soffia is confused.
please come with me, he asks again, and lifts one hand to his lips, lifts his gaze to her. lifts the other hand and there is a longing in his look and soffia whispers no, you don’t understand. and soffia thinks you will never understand, i'm afraid of you, of your rings and the charm around your neck and the elements of you. i can’t let you in, you’ll see me, you’ll see behind the pretty and there is a world there and a garden and bold love and soft skin and you’ll see all of my longings. you'll kiss me and touch me so softly and sweet and you'll say words to me that i will remember forever and you'll forget. and you will hold me and the well of my whole heart will open and we will swim in magic, in awe, strangers, lovers...
please, she whispers, don't ask me again.
soffia shakes her head and takes her hands from his and tries to turn away. he touches her arm, leans in to read her face but she shakes her head again. ok, I’ll go, he says, and begins to walk away.
she stops him. the charm has been set, she can't bear to let him walk away. just let me smoke one cigarette, please. will you find me a cigarette? and he does, lights it for her, holds it out to her as if they’d always shared a smoke and she knows she'll let him take her hand one more time and lead her out the door.
a tan coat, a fake shearling car coat which will be so familiar to her, which he wears always; big wide-set eyes, a small pointed chin, close-shaved blonde hair, day-old growth, a thin leather band with a tarnished rune medallion bound tight around his neck. two silver rings giving weight to the hands that take hers. and soffia of the lithe body and honey hair, moss green eyes, full lips, and sentimental soul is his for the night.
he is baldur, and when he says her name he repeats it as if it has some context she doesn’t yet understand. they are walking hand in hand, they are in a cab, they are at his home. he helps her take her boots off, he shows her to his room. he takes her coat, her sweater, takes off his own, they fall onto the bed and into the deep adventure of each other’s bodies. baldur says so many things to her, baldur tells soffia things he shouldn’t. he tells her that he has been waiting to meet her all his life, that she has a perfect body, that she is so beautiful. baldur says her name over and over again, while he smoothes his hands over her skin.
he asks her questions, simple questions and says her name over and over. with each whispered question she is lulled more into his world. he is working a charm on her, spelling out all she wants and needs to hear until she is overwhelmed, she lies nude beneath him and arches up to his lips, to catch the sound of her name as it falls from his breathe. he is still in his shorts, and he says to her soffia, i won’t do it tonight, i want you so much, you feel how much, but i want to wait, til tomorrow soffia, so we won’t hate each other, so you will love me, he whispers hoarse with tension. and tears run down her face in the darkness though she makes no sound. she bites her lip and feels his hands on her. soffia, i could fall in love with you. i could fall in love with you. we’ll wait until tomorrow, soffia. we’ll sleep.
she wakes in his arms and looks to the window. baldur, has tomorrow come? she murmurs, and he holds her tighter til she sleeps again.
light just barely filters in to his bedroom as they find each other's lips, they are hungry, they are waking to make love, they are clasping their bodies together to reassure, to remember each other and what had passed a few hours before. now they move as one, they are perfect lovers, please, never stop, please, baldur, soffia thinks. she thinks, remember this, be here now, so you never forget what it feels like to feel him. her head spins, and though they've just met there is a triumphant joy that they've made it this far. they lay together meeting, smiling, glowing, caring, letting go.
baldur drives soffia home. how can we meet again? he asks. and everything in soffia screams in a different direction. trust him, he's a good man. he will hurt you, he'll give up. he wants to know you, he said things, believe him, he's dangerous, he's beautiful, he's...
play it cool. so she does. she kisses him and says, look me up, okay? then leaves the car and slowly walks away.
© Madia (Maria Alva Roff) 2004
