TranslatingRitaSophie

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Archive for the month “May, 2013”

WWWBT 6 :) -Where Lara is intrigued that the CF guy hasn’t kissed the WWBT and Luca wants to go to the Zoo

Writing about CF, having lived it already, is funnier than I anticipated. Lara is suddenly all literary criticism:

‘Why hasn’t he kissed you???? You should have said he’d kissed you!!! Come on, you want to please your readers… don’t you?’

 In that moment I’m not sure whom I want to please, or if I want to please anyone at all. Well, maybe myself!

‘Ok, next time have him catch you in the showers. Rip off your wet T shirt! Action, woman, action!’

We’re sitting on the floor in my living room and checking the texts before I upload them on WordPress. With some beer, of course!

Luca is in the kitchen, preparing some macaroni and cheese that he knows I cannot eat; it’s not part of the CF diet.

He hasn’t shaved in more than a week, and he looks like a monk: hirsute, slim and blue eyed.

‘I don’t think he’s real’, he says in a deep, considered voice.

Lara turns to look at him.

‘What do you mean he’s not real?’

‘If he were real, why wouldn’t she tell him how she felt about him?’

Lara sips her beer, watching. Men these days! Ok, not all men, just Luca, cooking macaroni and cheese in my kitchen.

‘Luca, let me explain something to you! In matters of lust, words can be real killers.’

‘Oh, sorry, this is just simple lust then?’

He’s being ironic, but after a few beers I deem him medically unfit to dispense irony. I feel a strong urge to go and kick his ass, but instead I just breathe it all in and drink more beer.

‘Well, we’ll leave the T shirt ripping for later on, shall we?’

I stand up and go to the kitchen. I peel a carrot and start to crunch it, simultaneously inhaling the appetizing smell of the melted cheese with a painful desire… is it hunger? Just another wanton lust? Or is it the idea that I’ll never have macaroni and cheese ever again? The forbidden apple… I’m a strong woman, come on, I can fight the temptation, the carrot is better… More beer.  Important to maintain a sense of balance after all. Now who’s being ironic? A hint of a smile rises at the corners of my mouth.

‘How about you go to a hotel somewhere, and you meet him there?’

Lara’s still trying to save the day. Luca bursts into what I’d call nervous laughter. But why?

‘Ladies, dinner is served!’

He comes in with two red plates of steaming macaroni, gives one to Lara and starts eating from the second one. I’m still crunching my carrot. Trying to look nonchalant. Feels like I’m failing.  Or maybe I’m falling… for someone?

‘How about we go to the zoo?’ he says, his mouth full of macaroni.

Lara and I look at him incredulously. The way I imagine I would look if the CF guy suddenly turned up on my doorstep one morning, milk and newspapers in hand.

I was saying at the beginning of this diary, or whatever this is, that I ‘collect’ men. Notice the inverted commas. I like this one, and that one, I like Aragorn from Lord of the Rings, and Luca, and the CF guy, and Luke Skywalker from Star Wars. Additions to my collection. So many in fact that, at one point, my girlfriends started complaining that they had lost track. I promised to draw them a chart – to help them keep up!

‘There are zebras at the zoo, right?’ He asks as if it really matters. Somehow I think not.

His voice is tired, but I sense a warmth emanating from him: ephemeral, but still somehow tangible. I like it. Not sure why. But it feels appropriate right then and there. No need to pick over the fine details. He wants to see the zebras and I would be a selfish bitch if I didn’t grant him his wish, allow him this small pleasure. Now, all I have to do is convince Lara that going to the zoo is as fun as fantasizing about sex in a hotel with the CF guy. Well, I can never resist a challenge…

(text supervised and ‘approved’ by my good friend, Luca! Find his words amongst mine)

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WWWBT 5 – The kiss

5

Jody Wisternoff’s gig for TATW 450 starts violently, with some screaming violins or electronic gadgets that sound like them. The four repetitive beats invoke the rain or foreplaying the wildest sex ever. And then the voice. Don’t know if it’s him singing. I might as well write on his Facebook wall and ask him. I’ve done it before. He’s generous enough to reply to his fans.

I know this part by heart, my gut knows it, the tiny hairs on my spine rise and my muscles contract, I feel like a big cat ready to jump for a gazelle. Playing Jody loud in the car, as I’m driving to a CF morning class.

I love the morning classes. The sun rises while I’m driving to Springs, the roads are almost empty, and one can literally breathe in the possibilities through the open window.

I park at the same time as he does.

He waits for me to sign in and we enter the gym together.

We end up side by side, squat holding against the wall. I see him from the corner of my eye and I can’t concentrate anymore, my knees are weak, but thank God I can say it’s because of the squat hold. Oh, I’m so aware of my stupid, immature infatuation that I could easily discard, like a useless ATM receipt. But why? It feels so good, so painfully alive…

I can’t hold for too long, maybe seven – eight seconds, then I need to break, count to five then re-assume the position…if only!

Right beside me, he holds it. And holds it. Then, he starts screaming. The sound of a wounded bear, slowly bleeding to death. Or a passionate lover having the orgasm of his life. Whichever it is, it’s so powerful, I almost suffocate. I choke and start coughing, trying to catch my breath.

It’s not funny anymore, and, fortunately, we’re going out for a run, where I can clear my head and try to forget that sound, still ringing in my ears, the visceral sensation still contorting in my stomach.

Back in the gym, we choose different stations. Maybe it’s for the best not to have him in front of me.

I remember Luca’s words. ‘Tell him.’ What to tell him? There’s no place for words here. This is a bubble, all this crazy passion; a single word would be nothing but a needle to burst it. Better leave it to float on the wind of my imagination, it’s harmless, but its colours have a beauty all their own.

The class is over.

We stretch, still side by side on the black and yellow mats, we talk about my last run, and I go to the bathroom to change my wet shirt and take off the killer Nike bra. Release feels great, like casting aside a suit of armour. My breasts are soft, my nipples hard. What a delicious contradiction. Nice!

He’s outside, by his car, and I’m happy I have my chance to say good bye. We hug and he’s all wet. I feel the urge to ask him how my nipples feel on his abs.

I giggle instead.

I’m ready to go to my car, but he’s still holding me and doesn’t let go.

I’m afraid to look up. I’d be pretty close to his mouth and…

I hold my breath for a second, because I anticipate the kiss. He didn’t shave and his one day beard is rough against my face. Friction was never so sweet and full of promise. His tongue tastes like melon.

I can continue in an E.L. James’s style, and I know lots of my readers would prefer it to what I’m going to actually reveal about that kiss.

Well… there was no kiss.

I just closed my eyes for a moment in the bathroom, mesmerized by the view of my nipples, and imagined how they’d feel against his abs, through his wet shirt…

I’d better hurry, I need to get home, shower and go to work. I guess an imaginary kiss is almost as good as a real one…  Oh, whom am I kidding?! Sometimes, I’m so ridiculously, innocently, stupidly, delightfully…

NOTHING

Don’t come too close!

So what if I encouraged you to do it?

Don’t look into my eyes!

There’s nothing there!

And no man needs nothing!

Don’t assume we’ll ever touch

With the simple blink of an eye!

Don’t even imagine

We could ever hold hands!

The sand mine are made of will slip through your fingers.

Don’t think you can know me

The way I won’t ever know myself!

I’m sure to have deleted long time ago

What could have been

The shape of my soul.

Turn back and go your way!

You may call this detour

How I thought I saw

A glimpse of happiness

But it was actually

A perfectly shaped

Nothingness!

WWWBT 4 – Where WWBT is dreaming about the CF guy and Luca is jealous

I choose the station with the ball. It’s a 5 kg leather ball, that we have to raise above our heads, then we have to squat and smash the ball to the ground. Don’t assume it’s easy! After seven or eight smashes you simply want to…. lay on a beach, with a Marguerita in your hand… You want to disappear, and materialize in your bed, or… anywhere but here. The music is so loud that it’s eventually a crazy noise acting like some sort of fuel…

I look up and he’s just in front of me. That’s interesting! I can see his nape, and all the sweat crawling down underneath his shirt…

Between the stations, we need to jump high. I mean, as high as one can still jump after having been smashed for a minute in the previous station. I’m trying to follow the music, I move my hips, I try to catch my breath. All this, while looking at him. He’s just there, in front of me. And I look, and I mechanically move… Next station.

The next station is the one he’s worked at. Little drops of sweat are sparkling on the yellow mat. Pushups with hand release. I get my face so close to the mat, I can breathe in his sweat. And that’s even more exciting than touching him. I close my eyes and I feel him with all the nerving endings. There’s only noise, exhaustion, lust….

Someone’s pinching me. I take out the ear plugs, I open my eyes and I see Luca. He’s looking at me with a very bored look on his face, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers.

‘What?’

‘You’re snoring’, he’s whispering. As if fearing not to wake up Tomcat.

You, bloody bastard, I’m screaming in my head, I was that close… he was so close… I…

I’m chocking and coughing just to clear my throat, then I go to the bathroom, just to avoid breaking his nose!

I don’t like being waken up, especially when it’s a real pain to fall asleep in the first place.

I look at the black spots below my eyes, my half open eyes…

Small patches of blond hair stick up in the air, as if I’ve just got my fingers out from an electrical plug. I’m losing a lot of hair, after every wash and every combing I collect fistfuls of thin hairs, as thin as they could not support any dream, if you ask me. But other hairs continue to grow from my scalp, and that’s reassuring that I’m not going to end up bold, but, still…

I keep looking at myself in the mirror. And the time flows past me, dragging all my possible scenarios for a normal boy friend and dump them into oblivion.

I take a quick shower, get dressed and go to Circuit Factory for the Friday morning session. I don’t speak or look at Luca. He’s not there. I don’t know him!

The routine is as accurate as a Swiss watch. The butterfly in the stomach, the warm up, he’s there as well, and, like in my dream, he ends up in the station in front of me. I can get addicted to this!

The class is over, I drive back home, I enter the apartment in complete silence, with a blank figure…

‘Who is he?’

Luca’s pretending to watch TV in the black armchair. He turns his head just a little, looks at me and sees right through me. He’s put a red T shirt, but if I concentrate hard enough, or put the AC, I bet I can see his nipples.

‘What are you talking about?’

I play stupid, though I know I’m going to lose.

‘He doesn’t know you like him’….

His voice is soft like a piece of kashmir on a marble egg. I literally visualize its endless gliding.

‘Shouldn’t you go home?’, I ask him giggling inside.

He looks at me. If I didn’t know him for years and be certain he’s not at all interested in me, I’d rip his T shirt off and wrestle him on the carpet.

He poses with the sad eyes of a dog begging for a bone.

I collapse on the couch, all sweaty and numb. I have to stop thinking about the CF guy!

‘You should tell him!’

This time I don’t even turn my head towards him. I watch blindly the TV. He’s put the disc of Stephen Hawkin’s UNIVERSE. Apart from the fact that I don’t like people looking through my DVDs, I’m mad at him! I’m mad at the CF guy for being so incredibly concupiscent! I’m mad at me for being so stupid to fall for inaccessible guys. I think I might as well take a break! Be cool about it! Look at a potential lover like Luca’s looking at me. With his blank figure, all uninterested and… cool! What if he saw me sleeping naked? He’s not interested! I can do that! Definitely!

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