Post by gerardslass (DebCar) on Aug 14, 2008 12:11:49 GMT -5
Thought maybe you guys will like this. The poem at the end is soooooo moving.
It was posted back in July of 2004 by neelyro. I will give you the link to GBFans. It is a great Gerry board.
gerardbutlerfans.yuku.com
Enjoy,
Deb
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is something I have been working on for a bit. Remember it's my first attempt at poetry in a long long while.. be kind.
Neelyro
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tonight
The crowd was packed tightly in the freight elevator as it rumbled below ground level to the club. The doors opened and the mob surged out, everyone rushing through the darkened hallway to the neon lighted entrance. Each person determined to get the best seat before anyone else.
She waited, letting people push past her. Crowds made her more than a bit nervous. She also wanted a good seat but yet….the need to see him *alone* made her linger in the darkened entrance. It was still early and this was the only way into the club. Perhaps he was not here yet. She waited, patiently.
The elevator doors opened again and another mob of guests surged past her and she searched the faces for a glimpse of his. He was not there.
Fifteen minutes passed and she decided he must have already arrived. If she was going to get a seat at all, she needed to go in. She did not want to keep her heavy wrap during the show so she walked over to the coat check to leave it, clutching her poems to her breast. Turning to go into the entrance, she was met with another throng of people rushing by. She stepped back out of their way and bumped into the wall.
Suddenly the wall moved inward and she found herself falling backwards until she was stopped by a warm body. Strong hands held her upright.
Without looking back, she said, "Oh, excuse me. The crowd was ..." She turned to face the person behind her and her voice trailed off to silence.
" Like a hungry pack of wolves, aren't they." He murmured, frowning at the mob. " You okay?" he asked, looking down at her, smiling. He was still holding her.
She muttered breathlessly, "Oh, it's you."
His smile disappeared and was replaced with long, tired sigh. He let go of her abruptly, " Let me guess, you are a fan and you were lying in wait for me." He did not give her time to answer and immediately demanded, "Have I got it right, woman?"
She could not help but notice the drastic change in his demeanor… " No.. I mean.. well.. I wanted to give you these poems." She said and handed him the book she had been clutching tightly. " I won't bother you anymore, I just wanted you to have them." She turned and quickly walked away from him into the club.
She found a seat at the back of the room and tried to sort out what had just happened. He had always been enormously kind to his fans, but she had just seen another side of him. What a fool she was, the man was fed up with all the rigors of stardom and she had just unwittingly added to it. She wished now that she had just mailed the poems.
After the show, she was a little better in spirit. He had been so adorable and cute on stage.. teasing and responding to the audience. Showing off with the huge sword, his kilt swinging and swaying with his movement. He was amazing. Yet tonight she had discovered he was human like her and every person on earth, with good moods, bad moods and occasional anger. She would never again seek his attention as a fan, she could at least give him that gift. She sighed, if she could disappear in a puff of smoke and avoid seeing him again, she would.
The room was emptying…and she had no choice but to follow people out through the only door available. There was such a thin line between a fan and stalker.. she did not want to be classified with either in his eyes. She just wanted to leave. She hurried out with the crowd, feeling oddly safe and invisible in the middle of the pack.
She was standing at the coat check, being pushed and shoved as she waited patiently for her coat. Suddenly a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the throng. She had no choice but let him pull her into a deserted corner away from the crowd.
"Did you write these poems for me?" he asked, his tall form towering over her.
It was dark where they stood, but she could see he was dressed in street clothes again. Or half dressed, for he looked as if he had rushed out in the middle of getting changed, his shirt only half buttoned, his leather jacket slung carelessly over his shoulder. He was holding her book in his hand.
She could not utter a sound.
"Did you lass?" he repeated in a softer voice.
"Yes, I did." she managed.
"They're amazing." he whispered, his voice full of emotion. He leaned down and kissed her on her cheek.
She heard his low groan, felt his warm breath on her face and she shivered. Then his mouth suddenly slid over to her lips and he brushed his lips on hers with a tender kiss. She felt their softness, felt the prickly stubble of his beard and mustache. She smelled his scent. She opened her mouth to his and she tasted him.
Suddenly he pulled away from her.
"God, woman, do you realize how sensuous these poems of yours are?" He growled. Studying her to see if she realized what havoc she was creating in his brain.
"I intended them to be." her voice breathy and low.
"You meant every word you wrote?" he asked, as if testing her.
"Every word was for you... about you." she breathed, her chest rising and falling with her excitement.
He noticed it and for a moment could not look away from her bosom. Suddenly he pushed away from the wall, turning his back on her, as if to walk away.
She held her breath, afraid that he was truly leaving.
But he halted and stood where he was. She saw his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath and he ran his hand up over his short-cropped hair, as if struggling with a decision.
She said his name.
At the sound of her voice, he turned back to her, his eyes locking with her own. Something he saw in them made up his mind and he came to her, gently pushing her against the wall. With his hand on her neck, he pulled her mouth to his with a hungry, almost desperate kiss. This time his lips were open, his purpose intentional. For seconds he lost himself in the kiss, as he angled it and pushed it to a deeper intimacy than the first.
She responded, meeting his tongue. She leaned into him, dropping her coat and letting her arms go round his waist.
Then it was as if he suddenly realized what he was doing and he left her mouth. "Damn" he muttered, against her skin. He kissed her cheek and murmured "I'll treasure them, always. Thank you." Then he turned without meeting her eyes and disappeared into the crowd.
Stunned, she stood leaning against the wall for what seemed like forever, she had no choice. If she tried to stand on her own, she would have dissolved in a puddle on the floor. He had kissed her.. not just on the cheek.. but on the mouth. A soft, tender kiss…. Perhaps only a thank you for her poems, but then the second kiss was much more than that. She was not imagining the intensity of it or the suggestion it held. Was she?
But he had left. She thought briefly of running after him.
She did not. Instead, she stood there until she could trust her legs to support her. Picking up her forgotten coat from the floor, she made her way to the elevator.
By now the crowd had thinned and only a few people stood waiting for the doors to open. When they did, she stepped after them into the tiny space, already occupied by people.
She leaned back against the wall as it began to rise. Her eyes closed, reliving the kiss and the taste of him. She shivered thinking of it. Then she remembered where she was and unwillingly came back to the present. Embarrassed, she glanced furtively at the people around her in the tight space, hoping no had noticed her dream weaving.
Yet, she had the feeling that someone had noticed. Slowly her eyes traveled across the space and faces, then she saw him standing in the opposite corner, watching her. Her breath caught when their eyes met. He did not smile or acknowledge her, but continued to stare at her intently, as if he could not look away. Neither could she.
The elevator emptied and they remained there, staring at one another.
"I don't know whether to apologize or to kiss you again." He said simply.
She blushed hotly, then a grin spread across her face as his statement sunk in… 'He wants to kiss me again'.
"Do you think we could find some place with no press, no crowds?" he asked.
" Feel the need to escape do you?" she asked, feeling bolder.
"Darlin, you have no fuckin idea how bad I need to escape." he growled. Then he smiled at her, "Just a quiet place, to talk."
"Extra creamy lattes, dark shadows with soft jazz …and smoking permitted.. right?" she said.
"Oh sweet Jesus, does such a place actually still exist?" he exclaimed, his troubled face suddenly transforming into joy.
"Come with me." She said, leading him out into the chilly New York night.
She took him to an obscure café in the Village. A hidden gem in the basement of an old commercial building. It was definitely out of the way without signs or advertisements, just a dark stairway leading down to a hallway then to an unmarked door. There was no chance of press showing up, much less a fan or the crème de la crème of New York City.
Inside, it was a rather tiny place, with small tables and chairs scattered around three sides of a low platform stage. A stool stood alone in the middle of it. From a dark corner, a lone sax whined a sensuous tune accompanied by a piano. Its melody bravely off beat and irreverent, as it meandered up and down the black and white keyboard. The soft whisk of a brush on a drum whispered its own punctuation in time. The atmosphere was dark, secret and definitely smoky.
"This place is fuckin greit! I love it." he exclaimed as they found a table and sat down.
"I thought you might. I do too."
"How the hell did you find it?" he asked.
"A fellow poet, he brought me here eons ago. You might say it's a place for old bohemians, rebels and secret lovers. Lost guilty pleasures, if you will." She told him.
He studied her, as if he was struggling to figure her out. All the while his fingers were rubbing her book of poems on the table. She shivered, feeling as if he was caressing her instead.
"So, is this the heart and soul of my rebel poet?"
She blushed, not knowing if he meant her poems or the place. " Both, I was born a rebel and a romantic.. thus the poetry."
"So, shall I just call you my poet? Or do you have a name." he queried.
"Alexandra." she offered. " Alexa to my friends and of course to you."
"Alexa, please don't be a fan tonight. Just be a woman, a beautiful, desirable woman."
"I am definitely a woman, but I'm not beautiful."
"But you are, Alexa. And a very talented poet."
"My poems are just my thoughts and feelings."
"You do realize how much they moved me." He sighed and for the first time since the kiss, he touched her, taking her hand. Playing with her fingers as he spoke. "And it takes a hell of a lot to move me these days."
She looked at their hands touching. On the way to the club, he had not touched her except in a courteous manner. His hand at her back when necessary, holding her arm as she stepped out of the cab. But this was more intimate. He spoke again and her eyes immediately looked back to his face. but his head was down, his eyes concentrating on their entwined fingers.
"Alexa.. have you ever been so bogged down with day to day shit that you think you're going mad?"
"You're really tired of all the Hollywood crap, aren't you." she said, squeezing his fingers.
He looked up at her, " God, I am so fuckin tired of it. All I want to do is act, I LOVE acting. But all the crap that comes with it, Jesus! Some times I just want to say fuck it all. But then I tell myself- 'just go do this next promotion, it's just one night'. Forget how stupid it is.. just do it, you never know what may come of it."
"You felt that way tonight, didn't you."
"I did, in the beginning. Then you came along …"
"And made it worse.. right?" she muttered.
"No Darlin, You made my night better. I was an ass, forgive me, Alexa."
"You don't need to apologize, I understand completely. But I should have just sent the poems."
He grabbed her hand with both his hands, "Oh no, I'm glad you found me and gave them to me! Afterwards I rushed like idiot to dress and waited around until I saw you." He grinned at her, " I had to get to know this woman who had such sensuous thoughts in her head"
Alexa blushed, "Now you're teasing me."
His grin turned wicked, "Yeah.. I am sorta.. But, you're right, I had had enough of everything tonight. Everybody wants a piece of me..or a free ride.. I have no idea who is real and who is using me."
" How do you know the difference?" she asked.
He sighed, " Sometimes I know right away, I feel it in my gut. Otherwise, I don't know, until it plays out."
"That must be hard, even hurtful when it turns out to be a user." She said, curling her fingers around his.
He looked down at her movement, clutching her fingers tighter, " In the beginning, it hurt a lot, especially with those people I liked. Now, I find I am a bit hardened to it and I am forced to be cautious."
"And that's not you, is it." she stated.
"No, I fuckin hate it. I love meeting people, getting to know them. Even my fans."
"I thought we weren't getting into fans tonight."
He smiled and let go of her hand. He slouched back into the chair. " But you ARE a fan, aren't you Alexa?"
"Not like you think. I think you are a very talented and intriguing man. I admire you. I don't dwell on it every moment of every day because I have a full life and yes..there are always men in it." she paused, suddenly feeling shy. "But if I am truthful, I have to admit, I did want to get to know you.. as a person.."
He gave her a naughty look, " Umm.. are you sure it's just that? I mean those poems are fuckin sexy!"
Alexa blushed bright red, "I didn't say I was a nun!"
He burst out laughing, "Do tell… and I am no monk, Darlin. I love and appreciate all REAL women."
"Hmmm.. I think I already knew that." She teased.
"You know it is all your fault." He leaned toward her, his eyes huge and intense, pinning her in his gaze." Perhaps I took it too far with the kiss…but I couldn't help myself ..I had this mad desire to know the author.. your poems aren't just sexy.. they are..beautiful and so expressive and ..well they're amazing!"
She was almost moved to tears at his compliment, "You really do like my poems.." she managed.. her throat tight with emotion, " I can't tell you what that means to me…I think I like that more than you telling me I am beautiful."
He traced a line from her ear to her mouth, " I meant both, Darlin, but I know what you mean. If people would only say how greit my acting is as much as they say how 'hot' I look in a film.. That would make me happy, or happier…. "
She listened as he poured out his heart about his struggles with his career and what it took to stay sane, thankful that she had been chosen to be the listener and his sounding board. Yes, if she was truthful with herself, she did want more, but that was just her own secret fantasy. For him, she wished simple escape, from whatever he needed to get away from, for whatever length of time he required.
Time passed, lattes got drunk and his soul seemed lighter.. he no longer talked of his gripes, or his stress. His manner became more relaxed and jovial, as if he hadn't a care in the world. They were on their third latte, he was on his 10th cigarette. They had laughed, come close to crying together and had discussed every subject she could ever imagine. He talked of family, friends, his experiences, sometimes giggling, even babbling in his excitement. He asked her of her life, she told him everything about herself.
There was no evidence of the angry man she had seen earlier in the evening. She was totally absorbed and amazed by the change in him. And she was happy that she had been able to give him this gift of escape. A place where he was able to let go and be himself without cameras snapping his every move or reporters writing down every word he uttered. No, maybe she had not given him this time.. perhaps she had selfishly lured him to herself. It didn't matter which… all that mattered was that for this moment, he seemed to be enjoying himself, he was happy, he was relaxed and he was recharging body and soul.
The jazz band came back from break and started playing again. A slow and sexy rendition of an old Joe Cocker tune, 'Now that the magic is gone'
"I love this music." he murmured, " Will you dance with me, Alexa?"
" I'd love to." She answered
She took his offered hand and let him lead her to the dance floor. He twirled her around with a flourish before they started dancing, grinning a naughty grin at her. She couldn't help but giggle at his antics. Then he pulled her close with his arm around her waist. He twined his fingers in hers, bringing her hand to his lips for a kiss. Neither felt the need to talk, they let the music do it for them. They swayed to the beat, at first a bit apart, he would dip and swing her around in time to the beat. Then bring her close, grinding his pelvis to hers, sometimes he would slip his leg between hers, making her ride his thigh. In between giggling and laughing with him, she sighed deeply against his shoulder, unable to make the wild beating of her heart slow. Then all too soon, the song was over and they were still holding onto each other, not wanting it to end.
And as if the band knew their thoughts, they began an old jazzy blues song from Miles Davis. No twirling, no dipping this time, this song was slow and sensuous and made for making love to. A trumpet whined out the melody pierced with the tinkling of the piano. Melded together, they simply swayed to the great old melody, moving about the floor occasionally. As it came to an end, he leaned down to her and kissed her lips, then he whispered in her ear, "You'll always be my beautiful poet, Alexa."
Afterwards, back at the table he said, " I'm starving, do they have food here?"
They ordered out for Sabrett hot dogs and Gabila knishes. When they came they gobbled it all down as if they were starving.
They were deep into a discussion of their youth and drugs when an odd looking fellow walked out on the stage. His hair was long and pulled back in a pony tail, a bandana around his head. His jeans were baggy and well loved and worn almost to rags. His tee had the symbol of 'peace' on it, faded almost beyond recognition. He looked like he had just returned from Woodstock, where he had been on hiatus for over forty years. But his eyes were bright and alert, his step almost jaunty. He stood and waited for silence from the room.
"Get ready.. this is the infamous Harry.." she warned him with whisper.
He laughed and put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, kissing her head.. " I'll never forget this place, Alexa. Thank you for this." They both turned to listen to Harry.
Harry was true to his cause. Reciting an old poem of his younger days about making love not war and the inhumanity of government, all twenty stanzas of it. It received thunderous applause and to Alexa's surprise, a loud whistle from her companion.
" Fuckin hell.. that was greit!" he exclaimed. "Shit, can you imagine growing up in those days?"
Harry was not finished though. He thanked the audience, then he welcomed everyone. He remarked that there appeared to be a few lovers with them tonight and he felt they needed some inspiration..a poem of love.. but unfortunately that was not his forté.. but would dear Alexandra honor them with a poem or two?
Those who knew her work, applauded, eager to hear her perform.
She shook her head no.. a bit embarrassed that they would ask tonight of all nights. She didn't usually mind sharing her poems. But tonight.. she didn't know if she could.
But a voice beside her said softly, "Alexa, just one. For me, Darlin."
She looked at him and knew she could not refuse. " For you, then. Only for you."
He kissed her hand.
She stood as he pulled out her chair, but she did not let go of his hand." Oh no, you are coming with me for this." She said, pulling him along with her to the small stage.
He laughed nervously, as she sat him at a table right in front. " No command performance. I just need to see your eyes. My inspiration.. if you will." She said.
She sat on the edge of the raised platform, looking only at him. He sat relaxed in his pose, his arms loosely crossed over his belly, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.
She began ….
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tonight,
Come with me
Your mind has walked into
My kiss as a stranger
And the beating rhythm of your heart
Will now know without doubt
That it is I, not you,
who is the beggar
My words were never anything but
the tiniest whispered invitation which
has wondrously struck your fevered soul
Like a clock bonging in the quiet night
Forcing your eyes to finally know me
And I am undone
For beyond logic or reason, chance of
fate has turned what was me ~ you
As aching separated selves into ~ Us
And the world comes bright and a little melted
As I live selfishly in the velvet prison
That is your gaze
Tonight
Come with me
Don't be afraid, you, of my heart
For I will hug you safe and tight
Just like your mother would
And together we will weave dreams
More beautiful than even the
face she gave you
Slip away from the crowd
And for certain perfect hours
Let us live without thinking
Believing that nothing which has ever been
Invented can spoil this or this instant
And we will know smiles between sighs
In our hidden moonlight garden
You can plough my fertile soil
In furrows straight and deep
And I will tend your spirit
Until it stands strong again
and ready to face the day
Tonight,
Come with me
I will remind you of all you
once knew, but struggle to recall
Of what a woman should be,
Who hoards a trillion secrets
touchably alive but without
pretense or pretext hidden
Come before we perish, lean
A little against me and touch
me with that whiskey kilted voice
Push my impatience to an razor edge,
that cuts clean through, tickling
my ~ our perfect hunger
Go wandering with your fingers
To find those hidden secret itchings
More transparent than water
And I, breathless with necessary lips
Will catch the winds of your lust
As it aches deep into me.
Tonight
Come with me
I would rather than anything have
this moment, your kiss ..then I may
heave and twine my limbs about you
But… perhaps I have thought of you
somewhat too much and am become
perfectly and simply lustful
Then we will not waste loving
but talk of thousands of enormous
dreams and smoke cigarettes and
through a dribbling moan of jazz
I will promise to be your Moon
if you swear to be my Sun
Until our touching hearts, half singing
Half whispering, gather enough
brilliant shinning stars To banish
the dark cracks of your (my) soul,
And the mesmerizing sparkle
Of sweet green returns to your eyes
Tonight
Believe
That this one pierced moment
That you or I could only fancy
We should never know, does beckon
And is unimaginably ours
to grasp without promises
given or chains to bind
Tonight
Know
For this joyous time my heart
shall be the guardian of yours
secreting each priceless thorn
from your weary soul into the
blackest oblivion, lovingly kept
and never uttered beyond this
Tonight
Until
Morning pushes Night to Ground
and calls his Sun to greet Sky
Our separating selves, like ripe bellies
Full and bursting with warm memories
will maybe never (not) ever, no someday
part until forever yes and a day
Tonight
My loviest love, my dearest friend
before you leave
Kiss the pillows where our heads
lived and were, they moan still
with thrills of me under you, so new
and chant sweet songs of passion
from a Calidonian boy~God who
was delivered into my hands
Tonight
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The room was totally quiet for a few moments, then there were rapturous sighs and the applause began.
It continued around them, unheard and unnoticed by the couple caught in each others' gaze.
He was like a statue, still and carved of stone. Not moving a muscle. Nor did she.
Then as the applause began to die, he rose and went to her, kneeling down in front of her. So close to his face, she saw tracks of tears on his cheeks and her eyes overflowed. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. He took it past the kiss in the darkness long hours before, showing her the desire and need she filled him with.
"Alexa, Alexa…" He murmured in her ear.
He leaned back on his heels, looking at her with amazement, "I'm speechless.. that was wonderful. But I don't remember that one, I don't know how I missed it."
"You didn't miss it, it's not there. It is new for tonight, a gift I offer to you." She was still, watching and waiting for his reaction.
"Alexa.. I don't pick up my …" he started. But she interrupted him with a finger to his lips.
"I'm not a fan. Remember? I am simply a woman. And I think that tonight, you need me."
He gently traced her cheek with his finger.
She kissed it when it crossed her lips.
He pulled her to her feet and taking her hand, he led her out into the night.
The End.
It was posted back in July of 2004 by neelyro. I will give you the link to GBFans. It is a great Gerry board.
gerardbutlerfans.yuku.com
Enjoy,
Deb
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is something I have been working on for a bit. Remember it's my first attempt at poetry in a long long while.. be kind.
Neelyro
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tonight
The crowd was packed tightly in the freight elevator as it rumbled below ground level to the club. The doors opened and the mob surged out, everyone rushing through the darkened hallway to the neon lighted entrance. Each person determined to get the best seat before anyone else.
She waited, letting people push past her. Crowds made her more than a bit nervous. She also wanted a good seat but yet….the need to see him *alone* made her linger in the darkened entrance. It was still early and this was the only way into the club. Perhaps he was not here yet. She waited, patiently.
The elevator doors opened again and another mob of guests surged past her and she searched the faces for a glimpse of his. He was not there.
Fifteen minutes passed and she decided he must have already arrived. If she was going to get a seat at all, she needed to go in. She did not want to keep her heavy wrap during the show so she walked over to the coat check to leave it, clutching her poems to her breast. Turning to go into the entrance, she was met with another throng of people rushing by. She stepped back out of their way and bumped into the wall.
Suddenly the wall moved inward and she found herself falling backwards until she was stopped by a warm body. Strong hands held her upright.
Without looking back, she said, "Oh, excuse me. The crowd was ..." She turned to face the person behind her and her voice trailed off to silence.
" Like a hungry pack of wolves, aren't they." He murmured, frowning at the mob. " You okay?" he asked, looking down at her, smiling. He was still holding her.
She muttered breathlessly, "Oh, it's you."
His smile disappeared and was replaced with long, tired sigh. He let go of her abruptly, " Let me guess, you are a fan and you were lying in wait for me." He did not give her time to answer and immediately demanded, "Have I got it right, woman?"
She could not help but notice the drastic change in his demeanor… " No.. I mean.. well.. I wanted to give you these poems." She said and handed him the book she had been clutching tightly. " I won't bother you anymore, I just wanted you to have them." She turned and quickly walked away from him into the club.
She found a seat at the back of the room and tried to sort out what had just happened. He had always been enormously kind to his fans, but she had just seen another side of him. What a fool she was, the man was fed up with all the rigors of stardom and she had just unwittingly added to it. She wished now that she had just mailed the poems.
After the show, she was a little better in spirit. He had been so adorable and cute on stage.. teasing and responding to the audience. Showing off with the huge sword, his kilt swinging and swaying with his movement. He was amazing. Yet tonight she had discovered he was human like her and every person on earth, with good moods, bad moods and occasional anger. She would never again seek his attention as a fan, she could at least give him that gift. She sighed, if she could disappear in a puff of smoke and avoid seeing him again, she would.
The room was emptying…and she had no choice but to follow people out through the only door available. There was such a thin line between a fan and stalker.. she did not want to be classified with either in his eyes. She just wanted to leave. She hurried out with the crowd, feeling oddly safe and invisible in the middle of the pack.
She was standing at the coat check, being pushed and shoved as she waited patiently for her coat. Suddenly a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the throng. She had no choice but let him pull her into a deserted corner away from the crowd.
"Did you write these poems for me?" he asked, his tall form towering over her.
It was dark where they stood, but she could see he was dressed in street clothes again. Or half dressed, for he looked as if he had rushed out in the middle of getting changed, his shirt only half buttoned, his leather jacket slung carelessly over his shoulder. He was holding her book in his hand.
She could not utter a sound.
"Did you lass?" he repeated in a softer voice.
"Yes, I did." she managed.
"They're amazing." he whispered, his voice full of emotion. He leaned down and kissed her on her cheek.
She heard his low groan, felt his warm breath on her face and she shivered. Then his mouth suddenly slid over to her lips and he brushed his lips on hers with a tender kiss. She felt their softness, felt the prickly stubble of his beard and mustache. She smelled his scent. She opened her mouth to his and she tasted him.
Suddenly he pulled away from her.
"God, woman, do you realize how sensuous these poems of yours are?" He growled. Studying her to see if she realized what havoc she was creating in his brain.
"I intended them to be." her voice breathy and low.
"You meant every word you wrote?" he asked, as if testing her.
"Every word was for you... about you." she breathed, her chest rising and falling with her excitement.
He noticed it and for a moment could not look away from her bosom. Suddenly he pushed away from the wall, turning his back on her, as if to walk away.
She held her breath, afraid that he was truly leaving.
But he halted and stood where he was. She saw his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath and he ran his hand up over his short-cropped hair, as if struggling with a decision.
She said his name.
At the sound of her voice, he turned back to her, his eyes locking with her own. Something he saw in them made up his mind and he came to her, gently pushing her against the wall. With his hand on her neck, he pulled her mouth to his with a hungry, almost desperate kiss. This time his lips were open, his purpose intentional. For seconds he lost himself in the kiss, as he angled it and pushed it to a deeper intimacy than the first.
She responded, meeting his tongue. She leaned into him, dropping her coat and letting her arms go round his waist.
Then it was as if he suddenly realized what he was doing and he left her mouth. "Damn" he muttered, against her skin. He kissed her cheek and murmured "I'll treasure them, always. Thank you." Then he turned without meeting her eyes and disappeared into the crowd.
Stunned, she stood leaning against the wall for what seemed like forever, she had no choice. If she tried to stand on her own, she would have dissolved in a puddle on the floor. He had kissed her.. not just on the cheek.. but on the mouth. A soft, tender kiss…. Perhaps only a thank you for her poems, but then the second kiss was much more than that. She was not imagining the intensity of it or the suggestion it held. Was she?
But he had left. She thought briefly of running after him.
She did not. Instead, she stood there until she could trust her legs to support her. Picking up her forgotten coat from the floor, she made her way to the elevator.
By now the crowd had thinned and only a few people stood waiting for the doors to open. When they did, she stepped after them into the tiny space, already occupied by people.
She leaned back against the wall as it began to rise. Her eyes closed, reliving the kiss and the taste of him. She shivered thinking of it. Then she remembered where she was and unwillingly came back to the present. Embarrassed, she glanced furtively at the people around her in the tight space, hoping no had noticed her dream weaving.
Yet, she had the feeling that someone had noticed. Slowly her eyes traveled across the space and faces, then she saw him standing in the opposite corner, watching her. Her breath caught when their eyes met. He did not smile or acknowledge her, but continued to stare at her intently, as if he could not look away. Neither could she.
The elevator emptied and they remained there, staring at one another.
"I don't know whether to apologize or to kiss you again." He said simply.
She blushed hotly, then a grin spread across her face as his statement sunk in… 'He wants to kiss me again'.
"Do you think we could find some place with no press, no crowds?" he asked.
" Feel the need to escape do you?" she asked, feeling bolder.
"Darlin, you have no fuckin idea how bad I need to escape." he growled. Then he smiled at her, "Just a quiet place, to talk."
"Extra creamy lattes, dark shadows with soft jazz …and smoking permitted.. right?" she said.
"Oh sweet Jesus, does such a place actually still exist?" he exclaimed, his troubled face suddenly transforming into joy.
"Come with me." She said, leading him out into the chilly New York night.
She took him to an obscure café in the Village. A hidden gem in the basement of an old commercial building. It was definitely out of the way without signs or advertisements, just a dark stairway leading down to a hallway then to an unmarked door. There was no chance of press showing up, much less a fan or the crème de la crème of New York City.
Inside, it was a rather tiny place, with small tables and chairs scattered around three sides of a low platform stage. A stool stood alone in the middle of it. From a dark corner, a lone sax whined a sensuous tune accompanied by a piano. Its melody bravely off beat and irreverent, as it meandered up and down the black and white keyboard. The soft whisk of a brush on a drum whispered its own punctuation in time. The atmosphere was dark, secret and definitely smoky.
"This place is fuckin greit! I love it." he exclaimed as they found a table and sat down.
"I thought you might. I do too."
"How the hell did you find it?" he asked.
"A fellow poet, he brought me here eons ago. You might say it's a place for old bohemians, rebels and secret lovers. Lost guilty pleasures, if you will." She told him.
He studied her, as if he was struggling to figure her out. All the while his fingers were rubbing her book of poems on the table. She shivered, feeling as if he was caressing her instead.
"So, is this the heart and soul of my rebel poet?"
She blushed, not knowing if he meant her poems or the place. " Both, I was born a rebel and a romantic.. thus the poetry."
"So, shall I just call you my poet? Or do you have a name." he queried.
"Alexandra." she offered. " Alexa to my friends and of course to you."
"Alexa, please don't be a fan tonight. Just be a woman, a beautiful, desirable woman."
"I am definitely a woman, but I'm not beautiful."
"But you are, Alexa. And a very talented poet."
"My poems are just my thoughts and feelings."
"You do realize how much they moved me." He sighed and for the first time since the kiss, he touched her, taking her hand. Playing with her fingers as he spoke. "And it takes a hell of a lot to move me these days."
She looked at their hands touching. On the way to the club, he had not touched her except in a courteous manner. His hand at her back when necessary, holding her arm as she stepped out of the cab. But this was more intimate. He spoke again and her eyes immediately looked back to his face. but his head was down, his eyes concentrating on their entwined fingers.
"Alexa.. have you ever been so bogged down with day to day shit that you think you're going mad?"
"You're really tired of all the Hollywood crap, aren't you." she said, squeezing his fingers.
He looked up at her, " God, I am so fuckin tired of it. All I want to do is act, I LOVE acting. But all the crap that comes with it, Jesus! Some times I just want to say fuck it all. But then I tell myself- 'just go do this next promotion, it's just one night'. Forget how stupid it is.. just do it, you never know what may come of it."
"You felt that way tonight, didn't you."
"I did, in the beginning. Then you came along …"
"And made it worse.. right?" she muttered.
"No Darlin, You made my night better. I was an ass, forgive me, Alexa."
"You don't need to apologize, I understand completely. But I should have just sent the poems."
He grabbed her hand with both his hands, "Oh no, I'm glad you found me and gave them to me! Afterwards I rushed like idiot to dress and waited around until I saw you." He grinned at her, " I had to get to know this woman who had such sensuous thoughts in her head"
Alexa blushed, "Now you're teasing me."
His grin turned wicked, "Yeah.. I am sorta.. But, you're right, I had had enough of everything tonight. Everybody wants a piece of me..or a free ride.. I have no idea who is real and who is using me."
" How do you know the difference?" she asked.
He sighed, " Sometimes I know right away, I feel it in my gut. Otherwise, I don't know, until it plays out."
"That must be hard, even hurtful when it turns out to be a user." She said, curling her fingers around his.
He looked down at her movement, clutching her fingers tighter, " In the beginning, it hurt a lot, especially with those people I liked. Now, I find I am a bit hardened to it and I am forced to be cautious."
"And that's not you, is it." she stated.
"No, I fuckin hate it. I love meeting people, getting to know them. Even my fans."
"I thought we weren't getting into fans tonight."
He smiled and let go of her hand. He slouched back into the chair. " But you ARE a fan, aren't you Alexa?"
"Not like you think. I think you are a very talented and intriguing man. I admire you. I don't dwell on it every moment of every day because I have a full life and yes..there are always men in it." she paused, suddenly feeling shy. "But if I am truthful, I have to admit, I did want to get to know you.. as a person.."
He gave her a naughty look, " Umm.. are you sure it's just that? I mean those poems are fuckin sexy!"
Alexa blushed bright red, "I didn't say I was a nun!"
He burst out laughing, "Do tell… and I am no monk, Darlin. I love and appreciate all REAL women."
"Hmmm.. I think I already knew that." She teased.
"You know it is all your fault." He leaned toward her, his eyes huge and intense, pinning her in his gaze." Perhaps I took it too far with the kiss…but I couldn't help myself ..I had this mad desire to know the author.. your poems aren't just sexy.. they are..beautiful and so expressive and ..well they're amazing!"
She was almost moved to tears at his compliment, "You really do like my poems.." she managed.. her throat tight with emotion, " I can't tell you what that means to me…I think I like that more than you telling me I am beautiful."
He traced a line from her ear to her mouth, " I meant both, Darlin, but I know what you mean. If people would only say how greit my acting is as much as they say how 'hot' I look in a film.. That would make me happy, or happier…. "
She listened as he poured out his heart about his struggles with his career and what it took to stay sane, thankful that she had been chosen to be the listener and his sounding board. Yes, if she was truthful with herself, she did want more, but that was just her own secret fantasy. For him, she wished simple escape, from whatever he needed to get away from, for whatever length of time he required.
Time passed, lattes got drunk and his soul seemed lighter.. he no longer talked of his gripes, or his stress. His manner became more relaxed and jovial, as if he hadn't a care in the world. They were on their third latte, he was on his 10th cigarette. They had laughed, come close to crying together and had discussed every subject she could ever imagine. He talked of family, friends, his experiences, sometimes giggling, even babbling in his excitement. He asked her of her life, she told him everything about herself.
There was no evidence of the angry man she had seen earlier in the evening. She was totally absorbed and amazed by the change in him. And she was happy that she had been able to give him this gift of escape. A place where he was able to let go and be himself without cameras snapping his every move or reporters writing down every word he uttered. No, maybe she had not given him this time.. perhaps she had selfishly lured him to herself. It didn't matter which… all that mattered was that for this moment, he seemed to be enjoying himself, he was happy, he was relaxed and he was recharging body and soul.
The jazz band came back from break and started playing again. A slow and sexy rendition of an old Joe Cocker tune, 'Now that the magic is gone'
"I love this music." he murmured, " Will you dance with me, Alexa?"
" I'd love to." She answered
She took his offered hand and let him lead her to the dance floor. He twirled her around with a flourish before they started dancing, grinning a naughty grin at her. She couldn't help but giggle at his antics. Then he pulled her close with his arm around her waist. He twined his fingers in hers, bringing her hand to his lips for a kiss. Neither felt the need to talk, they let the music do it for them. They swayed to the beat, at first a bit apart, he would dip and swing her around in time to the beat. Then bring her close, grinding his pelvis to hers, sometimes he would slip his leg between hers, making her ride his thigh. In between giggling and laughing with him, she sighed deeply against his shoulder, unable to make the wild beating of her heart slow. Then all too soon, the song was over and they were still holding onto each other, not wanting it to end.
And as if the band knew their thoughts, they began an old jazzy blues song from Miles Davis. No twirling, no dipping this time, this song was slow and sensuous and made for making love to. A trumpet whined out the melody pierced with the tinkling of the piano. Melded together, they simply swayed to the great old melody, moving about the floor occasionally. As it came to an end, he leaned down to her and kissed her lips, then he whispered in her ear, "You'll always be my beautiful poet, Alexa."
Afterwards, back at the table he said, " I'm starving, do they have food here?"
They ordered out for Sabrett hot dogs and Gabila knishes. When they came they gobbled it all down as if they were starving.
They were deep into a discussion of their youth and drugs when an odd looking fellow walked out on the stage. His hair was long and pulled back in a pony tail, a bandana around his head. His jeans were baggy and well loved and worn almost to rags. His tee had the symbol of 'peace' on it, faded almost beyond recognition. He looked like he had just returned from Woodstock, where he had been on hiatus for over forty years. But his eyes were bright and alert, his step almost jaunty. He stood and waited for silence from the room.
"Get ready.. this is the infamous Harry.." she warned him with whisper.
He laughed and put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, kissing her head.. " I'll never forget this place, Alexa. Thank you for this." They both turned to listen to Harry.
Harry was true to his cause. Reciting an old poem of his younger days about making love not war and the inhumanity of government, all twenty stanzas of it. It received thunderous applause and to Alexa's surprise, a loud whistle from her companion.
" Fuckin hell.. that was greit!" he exclaimed. "Shit, can you imagine growing up in those days?"
Harry was not finished though. He thanked the audience, then he welcomed everyone. He remarked that there appeared to be a few lovers with them tonight and he felt they needed some inspiration..a poem of love.. but unfortunately that was not his forté.. but would dear Alexandra honor them with a poem or two?
Those who knew her work, applauded, eager to hear her perform.
She shook her head no.. a bit embarrassed that they would ask tonight of all nights. She didn't usually mind sharing her poems. But tonight.. she didn't know if she could.
But a voice beside her said softly, "Alexa, just one. For me, Darlin."
She looked at him and knew she could not refuse. " For you, then. Only for you."
He kissed her hand.
She stood as he pulled out her chair, but she did not let go of his hand." Oh no, you are coming with me for this." She said, pulling him along with her to the small stage.
He laughed nervously, as she sat him at a table right in front. " No command performance. I just need to see your eyes. My inspiration.. if you will." She said.
She sat on the edge of the raised platform, looking only at him. He sat relaxed in his pose, his arms loosely crossed over his belly, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.
She began ….
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tonight,
Come with me
Your mind has walked into
My kiss as a stranger
And the beating rhythm of your heart
Will now know without doubt
That it is I, not you,
who is the beggar
My words were never anything but
the tiniest whispered invitation which
has wondrously struck your fevered soul
Like a clock bonging in the quiet night
Forcing your eyes to finally know me
And I am undone
For beyond logic or reason, chance of
fate has turned what was me ~ you
As aching separated selves into ~ Us
And the world comes bright and a little melted
As I live selfishly in the velvet prison
That is your gaze
Tonight
Come with me
Don't be afraid, you, of my heart
For I will hug you safe and tight
Just like your mother would
And together we will weave dreams
More beautiful than even the
face she gave you
Slip away from the crowd
And for certain perfect hours
Let us live without thinking
Believing that nothing which has ever been
Invented can spoil this or this instant
And we will know smiles between sighs
In our hidden moonlight garden
You can plough my fertile soil
In furrows straight and deep
And I will tend your spirit
Until it stands strong again
and ready to face the day
Tonight,
Come with me
I will remind you of all you
once knew, but struggle to recall
Of what a woman should be,
Who hoards a trillion secrets
touchably alive but without
pretense or pretext hidden
Come before we perish, lean
A little against me and touch
me with that whiskey kilted voice
Push my impatience to an razor edge,
that cuts clean through, tickling
my ~ our perfect hunger
Go wandering with your fingers
To find those hidden secret itchings
More transparent than water
And I, breathless with necessary lips
Will catch the winds of your lust
As it aches deep into me.
Tonight
Come with me
I would rather than anything have
this moment, your kiss ..then I may
heave and twine my limbs about you
But… perhaps I have thought of you
somewhat too much and am become
perfectly and simply lustful
Then we will not waste loving
but talk of thousands of enormous
dreams and smoke cigarettes and
through a dribbling moan of jazz
I will promise to be your Moon
if you swear to be my Sun
Until our touching hearts, half singing
Half whispering, gather enough
brilliant shinning stars To banish
the dark cracks of your (my) soul,
And the mesmerizing sparkle
Of sweet green returns to your eyes
Tonight
Believe
That this one pierced moment
That you or I could only fancy
We should never know, does beckon
And is unimaginably ours
to grasp without promises
given or chains to bind
Tonight
Know
For this joyous time my heart
shall be the guardian of yours
secreting each priceless thorn
from your weary soul into the
blackest oblivion, lovingly kept
and never uttered beyond this
Tonight
Until
Morning pushes Night to Ground
and calls his Sun to greet Sky
Our separating selves, like ripe bellies
Full and bursting with warm memories
will maybe never (not) ever, no someday
part until forever yes and a day
Tonight
My loviest love, my dearest friend
before you leave
Kiss the pillows where our heads
lived and were, they moan still
with thrills of me under you, so new
and chant sweet songs of passion
from a Calidonian boy~God who
was delivered into my hands
Tonight
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The room was totally quiet for a few moments, then there were rapturous sighs and the applause began.
It continued around them, unheard and unnoticed by the couple caught in each others' gaze.
He was like a statue, still and carved of stone. Not moving a muscle. Nor did she.
Then as the applause began to die, he rose and went to her, kneeling down in front of her. So close to his face, she saw tracks of tears on his cheeks and her eyes overflowed. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. He took it past the kiss in the darkness long hours before, showing her the desire and need she filled him with.
"Alexa, Alexa…" He murmured in her ear.
He leaned back on his heels, looking at her with amazement, "I'm speechless.. that was wonderful. But I don't remember that one, I don't know how I missed it."
"You didn't miss it, it's not there. It is new for tonight, a gift I offer to you." She was still, watching and waiting for his reaction.
"Alexa.. I don't pick up my …" he started. But she interrupted him with a finger to his lips.
"I'm not a fan. Remember? I am simply a woman. And I think that tonight, you need me."
He gently traced her cheek with his finger.
She kissed it when it crossed her lips.
He pulled her to her feet and taking her hand, he led her out into the night.
The End.
