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My New Red Bedroom
Copyright 2002 by RABarrington
He came to me with a green card from a land so lush and green that you could think fertility was as common as a safety pin. He came to me just before winter solstice when the earthlight would grow dim, the sky blacking to almost nothing. He came to me when I knew I could not escape the annual rite of weeping over the coffins of loved ones placed in a row on the red reindeer skirt under my little Christmas tree.
His wings tarnished from a summer of depravity, he picked me up in his arms and flew with me, asked me to practice with him so we could both learn to become better humans on this planet of wonder. He promised to reject my advances, be mute to the desire between my legs, and be silent in his plea for relief.
We had a deal.
The brilliant, handsome physicist would be leaving on December 22nd, on that day “us” would end. Right then I knew there was some perfection in our relationship. An ending had already been determined. No choices had to be made. No one would get hurt.
I, the soiled, muddied, grinning Mary Magdalene opened my ears to hear him talk of God’s wishes for us. How spending days in bed with a lover enjoying the flesh over and over is highly pleasurable to our animal selves, yet in the end love, true love has to be about more. It should be about inspiration. The man and the woman eagerly find ways to propel each other to their higher selves, to create new things in this world via word or art or vaccine or invention. The right person will inspire you to be a better you. Your higher self will illuminate. You will truly aspire, with your whole heart, to become your Godself.
He is right, of course. And unbelievably he is younger than me! I think God has whispered secrets in his ear. On his strong Aquarian wings he will travel the Universe! And he will generously ask certain wayward spiritgirls to travel with him, tucked under his arm.
Each night we went deeper.
Now if you are thinking we sat with prayer books in hand and just ran ideas through each other’s brains, well that wouldn’t be quite correct. After all we are humans of desire, of the flesh.
He tongued me and I sucked him in my mouth becoming a receptacle of his love. We had soul-train rhythm. What we did with hands and mostly mouths blasted away most of the skin experiments from my sullied past. We kept our promises to one another like they were sacred words etched in stone. No trespassing! Not to say there wasn’t “completion.” There was, in every sense of the word.
As to the actual mouth technique, I would tell you how to do it, but you really wouldn’t be good at it, so why bother.
This belongs to him.
Four days in December belong to him…the great Irish-kissed humanitarian, the noble savage, who will save the world, beginning in the cradle of civilization.