Francis
I woke up with the closed eyes.
An enormous pain to the head prevented me from opening them. The only thing that I succeeded in feeling they were the mucous ones of the mouth shoals, the lips that threw and the language that curled up for the lack of saliva. I tried to swallow more times, only hearing an acute pain to the throat. I became me account that I was extended on a soft surface, perhaps a bed or a couch. I tried to start my body: the feet, the calves, the gluteis, the right arm. The left arm seemed not to answer to the stimuli that the brain was sending him. I felt under it to the breast. I turned a couple of times me on myself and I realized me that the arm was totally deprived of sensibility. It seemed an extraneous arm the arm of a corpse. I had to pick him/it up and to lift him/it with the other hand. Blood started to flow back, I felt him/it to flow impetuous from the shoulder up to the point of the fingers and I let me escape a cry of pain confused by a hysterical laughter. I kept on not succeeding in opening the eyes. Eyelids give it didn't filter light. I didn't know what time it was, in that place I was me and the memoirs were piled up in my mind. I cleared up me the throat, swallowing. The mucous ones of the mouth began to soften, the muscles to have a certain mobility.
I opened the eyes.
I had to take me some second to succeed in putting to fire what it surrounded me. I recognized my bed, his/her sheets and above of me the skylight from which a dark and dark sky was glimpse. I turned me different times in the bed before putting me in knee and to improvise a sort of stretching. The back made a left crack. I built me and I made a will for some according to my equilibrium. I found me suit, in jacket and jeans. I had to be me dormant or more probably to have fainted. The bed was still incredibly what it stayed of my outline it was on the wrong side among the sheets. The clock marked you are her and a quarter but I didn't know if it were day or evening. I returned me to clear the voice and I rubbed me the face.
From the handrail of the loft on which the bed was found I succeeded in seeing the whole loft. I found nearby really there my sight glasses. The vision of that that a catastrophic scenery was preannounced showed to be more dramatic than the expectation.
In the head they started to rearrange him the images. There had been a party and more than the expectation you/he/she had to have lasted. Supported to the handrail I succeeded in distinguishing different bottles of rum, vodka and gin. The scattered glasses some anywhere, some half voids, other half heights. A bottle of Chianti, remembered very well her to me, it was inverted between the couch and the tavolino. A pillow had been completely torn, the tv sent who knows in loop from how much times by now a porno dvd. Bread's pieces, salatini, peels of lemon and orange were shed some anywhere on the floor. The door of house had just approached.
I gone down the staircases trying to decontrol the neck, I taken a cardboard of juice of fruit found on the table, the shaken ones and I drank a sip of it. The odor to the plain earth was nauseating and I kicked the remnants of the party that I was me before. I extinguished the dvd as soon as before the big and sturdy black came on the enormous breasts of a platinata actress porno. The channel satellitare of the newses pointed out the six and trentasette of the morning. I made an express mental account: I had almost slept one day.
The memoirs were confused. I remembered a party, of people that sang and they howled in my loft. Of undressed girls, of you palpate of breasts of a sniff of cocaine and a reed. I remembered a battle of salatini, of a competition to whom was attached more seconds to the bottle of vodka, of one friend of mine fainted in bath, of the malicious giggles of the girls while two were measured the proper bird in front of them. I had organized her I, was one of the so many. But that time I understood to decidedly have exaggerated. The stomach burned me terribly, the eyes were heavy and a strong pain pulsated me to the temples. I found for earth cigarette butts of cigarettes, tobaccos and torn business cards; stubs of spinelli were found on top of the ashtray stracolmo.
The bath had covered partly from dust whitish and I found really of side to the water a banknote from fifty European rolled up. I picked up the dust white with a finger and I vigorously rubbed her/it to me on the gums. That gesture waked up again in my mouth a strange taste of metallic, of blood. I opened the specchiera in front of me after being studies me the enormous occhiaies. I threw down a pair of aspirins drinking the ferrous water that went out of the sink.
Before entering shower I had who knows to make the accounts with an used condom left there from who, even really from me. But I didn't remember me.
Hot water loosened me the neck, the memoirs they were done more and more confused in my mind. I remained under the shower indefinite once, almost to want to loosen the ice that my thoughts imprisoned.
I found the jail cell I pour again on the floor, out. It was unloaded. I hardly attached him/it to the charger and the power on ones quarantacinque warning messages of call they arrived. I cancelled them all, without not even seeing who had looked for me. I took a seat me on the couch and I allowed to fall back the head to the closing the eyes. I felt under my body in transpiration to the expensive bathrobe that my mother had given me for Christmas. Out the city he was waking up. The noise of the traffic confused him with the rain that beat on the asphalt.
I listened to these noises mixarsi in my ears, the pulsating pain to the temples he was growing weak, the body he was relaxing. I mentally saw my breast swell himself/herself/themselves and to go down himself/herself/themselves according to my breath. I had to return in life. I knew that I had to make some things, that a happy sadness had to which to make account and a job to develop.
The jail cell rang.
Cristina.
The display illuminated its name, I remained to stare at him/it without not even the thought to answer her. It lasted about one minute, then it stopped. They passed few seconds and resumptions to ring. It did so for other five times before I decided me to answer.
Cristina was to the party. The thought had returned floating as soon as I saw its name on the telephone. You/he/she had been the whole evening sat on the couch with the glass of wine in hand. I think both is the only one in the whole evening. It fixed and it studied every movement of mine, every gesture of mine, every look of mine.
«Tell me.»
«Francis! But where cazzo are you ended? It is since yesterday that I look for you!»
«Eh, doesn't know him/it. I have been busy, I believe. Do tell me, are there problems?»
«No, nothing. I wanted only to know where you were, as you were. I thought I told me something after the party.»
«I have told you him, I was busy.»
«It suits you to go to eat together something tonight?»
«Boh, yes. It is all right. I don't know him/it.»
«At eight o'clock they are from you.»
«To the eight six from the me.»
I attacked again without greeting and without understanding indeed thing had told me.
I closed the eyes for some second before going in the kitchen to prepare me a cup of coffee. I took a seat me to table, sipping. I turned on the stereo, Lover You Should've As Over it flooded the whole space of an ethereal peace and calm. The notes dispersed him in the air, fluctuating deprived of happiness and melancholy. Sterile. If in the preceding hours my heart beat irregular unpacked by the alcohol and by the drugs, it now tried to follow the rhythm of the song. Beating and sincopando. To close the eyes seemed not to be enough to assimilate all together Jeff Buckley. Magic faded away after few more than six minutes, endless. The traffic bossily entered the sonorous space of the room.
I succeeded only thanks to the calendar of the pin-ups that I had bought for Los Angeles New Year's eve to have again clear the temporal picture. It was Tuesday, the party was initiated Sunday evening and probably ended to the first hours of Monday morning. I owed to have lost the senses to late night and remained being I deprive of knowledge up to the moment of my awakening.
I threw mysel
f in the wardrobe that was a melting-pot of heads of attire of every brand and coming from all the parts of the globe. I was fierce of that wardrobes. It perfumed of world, of style, of lived things. It was frequent to find in the pockets of the jackets or the pantalonis tickets, banknotes or you address that told as you suspect polizieschi a history that you/they knew only their.
The summer he was exhausting by now, leaving the place to the warm colors of the trees of the avenue, I had been shaking for the imminent autumn. I closed the front door behind of me and wound by the overcoat Burberry I smoked me the first cigarette of the day. You/he/she had stopped raining, the sidewalk perfumed of dry leaves. The city woke up and I remained in front of the front door of house to do the full one of nicotine.
The advertising agency for which I worked was on the same avenue of my house. One hundred civic numbers down. A quarter of now afoot.
The Boss had founded the agency ex-novo about ten years first: returned from the United States, illuminated by their working system and by so many ideas, you/he/she was dismissed by that for which he/she worked and you/he/she had founded his one of it. Third in Italy for incomes and number of clients, it was inspired in everything and for everything to the Google. The contracts were free, the assumptions were made not for experience or for age but for ability. The agency was kept to start a real investigation on the candidate to sift the potentialities, the culture, the aspirations, the hobbieses and the dreams of it. Only a person really motivated, charismatic, visionary and inspiring it deserved the attention of the Boss. Schedules of job didn't exist, Monday neither so much less Sundays. To the proper team you/he/she was assigned a project, an advertising country and a fear jobs of it of end. The team had white paper on the schedules of job, that were in the daytime or at night, of Tuesday rather than of Saturday. Besides the Boss assigned a proper budget for the search, that dealt with tickets for museums of natural history rather than a ticket gone and return for Tokyo to study the dynamics of the clientele in comparison to the musical planning in the store of Banana Republic. The main point was that at the end of the pre-arranged time the client had his/her advertising country, that was approved and that he left a signature above to a consistent check. This guaranteed a monthly salary esteemed around the four zero. Anymore the prizes of production.
I had graduated in Modern Letters and the Boss you/he/she had noticed my curriculum four months later. I didn't have any experience in the advertising field but the Boss after five interviews you/he/she had decided to invest on me. You/they had struck him my tenacity, my cynicism, my perseverance in the study and the immoderate passion for the fashion, the tendency, besides a brain" until and acute." You/he/she had defined really this way it. You/he/she had told me that I would have" seduced the publicity with cynics pregnant words of hidden meanings and subliminal messages." I passed from aspirant copywriter to creative manager in less than four years. To the active cinquantadue advertising countries of success, among which those of a yogurt, a bra, a liquid soap, a magazine, a disco, a clock, an auto, a line of masculine attire. Now I spent my days sat to the desk with my team to write on the last circulating Mac an advertising country that would have seduced and confused million of possible acquirenti,oppure on a photographic set with beautiful ready models to also excite the most frigid of the males or to the parades of fashion to New York and the worldly parties with the name inserted in the vip list. To twenty-eight I had already arrived and I was not never even me aware to have departed.
«Good morning Francis.» Maria told me the reception.
I made her the military regard without opening mouth. I reflexes in the ample glass door his/her eyes that followed me while I was continuing for the corridor.
I entered office: Giovanni slept supported to the desk hiding the face among the cross braccias, with Vogue opened on the head. I threw the Burberry on the clothes-stand and more I drew near me to my colleague I could feel from there the heavy breath. On the screen of his/her Mac it was open PornHub on what it made the video of a young girl that had a good time with a false fault applied to a drill. I took Vogue from his head and I beat him/it violently on the desk. Giovanni went off back to the howling frightened. On the left cheek, under the uncultivated beard, the sign of the clock was printed.
«What cazzo you make ugly piece of stupid!»
It chewed to empty a couple of times to stretch him the jaw. Giovanni had the completely stunned hair from the sleep and dams with a rapid ctrl+Q all the images on the Mac. You poured in the cup of the Lakerses coffee up to the edge.
«Where cazzo you have been? The Spaniards want not the country of the line of cosmetic over fifteen days. And you disappear!» it shouted me with still the sleep in mouth. «I am since yesterday here afternoon to throw down some idea and then we have to choose the models for the service that will go on the magazines and on the 6x3.»
«I have lost the senses» I told him while I was giving to eat to Sodoma and Gomorra, our two Pteroises volitans, more commonly known as fishes Scorpio. Gift of Christmas of the Boss to the return from his/her trip in Polinesia. Above to the aquarium a sheet A4 of warning camped": I watch You. To the first cazzata you make you a bath in a tub full of these. They wait you for pain to the head, nausea, vomit, abdominal cramps, paralysis to the limbs, iper or ipotensione, respiratory difficulty, ischemia of the miocardio, lungworm, syncopation. GOOD JOB! Boss."
«It doesn't rub a cazzo of it if you lose the senses or you die, first we have to end the country. You hold these composits of Elite in Milan to choose the model. You see to do him/it before tonight» and it launched them to me on the desk.
I turned on the portable one while I skimmed through them. For the country it served an enough transgressive face. I found her. You is sat on a chair, to cross legs, dressed only of black lingerie and a fifty-fifty cigarette in mouth. It had the same physiognomy of Kate Moss.
«Hey you, man. Do you have some coke?» I asked with the look still lost among the ecstasy of that bodies.
«You hold» it told me launching me a pouch full of poor. Of it spread out carefully a pair of strips on the back of the hand. I threw strong, upsetting back quickly the head to the not to solicit too much the mucous ones any nose.
«Giovanni, hold! We pick up Jennifer. You make to prepare the day after tomorrow the set for. Annulled of the Management Resources it has the numbers of the photographers. Day to the cosmeticians that it has to be simple, no heavy makeups, apart the lipstick, obviously. Transgressive he/she doesn't want to say for strength sow. I go out.»
I had different mail with which to have to make the accounts some clients that asked for updatings and two from the Boss. The rest they were enlarge your penis.
«How you go out? Where cazzo do you go? And the suits?»
«Nothing. Hi.»
Discovery Channel was about to transmit a documentary on the missions of the Nasa. I opened a bottle of Chianti and a packet of nachos. I deeply once sat on my dear couch and I lengthened the feet on the wood tavolino in front of me. The jail cell rang, I extracted him/it from the pocket and I extinguished him/it without looking who pits.
The spatial nacelles and the Apollos were dancing in the cosmic space as they did those of 2001: Odyssey in the Space on the classical music. Armstrong and Aldrin skipped about on the moon and I wondered me where you/they had hidden the laser swords. I stuck me to the neck of the bottle of wine swallowing big sips of Chianti. I did as soon as in time to put in mouth the fifth nachos that the sound of the bell made me jolt.
Porca sow, Cristina.
«Yes, who is?» I answered to the intercom.
«Francis, is Cristina. Do we go?»
«I am sorry but I don't feel well at all me and I cannot afford to take cold and to get sick. You give, I call you back me» I told her covering me the nose with two fingers, faking a sudden cold.
«No, you never call me back, make to climb me that I prepare you something of heat.»
I could not bear
that closed girl among the four boundaries of house. Cristina was really a crash, would have had a model future if only you/he/she had believed us instead of ending order in the shop of Gucci. Some intrusive was correct towards my life: in love perdutamente as it was, he/she refused to detach himself/herself/themselves. Game as friend of a friend, he was autopromossa in the turn of a few months to hateful rompicoglioni. I had known her to one some party to tall alcoholic rate, I had thought well of limonarci big part of the evening and bottom suggestion of the different rums that I had in the stomach I had promised her all of this that she desired. I had thought that it was a good weapon to bring in bed me her and not to feel anymore her but she had taken seriously me. I made the big error to let that borderline overcome more only her among the being a friend and being something. From that day he/she always called me, it brought me to unlikely light suppers of candle and he/she wanted to always be informed of my life and of my job. I think pits his/her way to show what it tried for me.
That evening I could not absolutely bear his/her sermons, better going out and to lose her/it in the confusion of some local.
«But I am better perhaps some, give me five minutes and I go down.»
You/he/she was waiting me with the power on auto really in front of the front door.
«Where it brings me, Miss? Guide her?»
«Yes, I drive me. It is a surprise» it gave me a kiss on the cheek, grazing me the lips on the angle of the mouth.
You/he/she had booked in a sushi cafe. A kind waiter from the almond eyes he/she took our capottis and it returned with the menù. Read with attention all the names to try to understand of thing they were composed that foods. Fifty-fifty arrival, the waiter returned.
«We take two sushi and mixed sashimi, an ussuzukuri, a futomaki and two hot roll. And two beers. Thanks.»
«Pel the signole?»
«To place so» it said Cristina raising me every word from the mouth.
The waiter took me the menù from the hands and brought the leaflet where you/he/she had taken the ordinations to the chef, that was shaking a cutlass in the kitchen you/he/she posts really in the middle of the place, probably trying to murder some poor innocent fish.
I became at that time only me account that is sat on the floor above to a pillow from the floral motives. Impossible to find a comfortable position: first I opted for being on the knees and I ended to cross legs with a strong pain to the back.
Once found the least painful position, Cristina began to caress me the face.
«You have frightened me when yesterday you didn't answer me to the telephone. I will have called you ten times.»
«I have told you him, I was not so much good and then I was busy.»
«Eh but you cannot treat yourself so, it is not all right. You should be to my house, I would take me care me of you and I would make you stop drinking everything that wine and all that alcoholic that turn to your house.»
«Not to worry you, knows what I do.»
«No, you don't know him/it, I don't like you to reduce always yourself this way. Then who were those that were to the party? I didn't like they, they tried us with you. And do that your so vulgar friends, know him/it that you/they have thrown out their coso in front of those two to make to be said who had him longer?»
«And who had him longer?»
«Francis! Enough!»
In the meantime all the ordinations arrived in once, the waiter was forced to also use the near tavolino to support the dishes. I was not sorry the sushi, even if I have to say that I was not a great fan of it. Above all because I am not a great lover of the fish. Cristina kept on speaking all evening, disquisendo and criticizing every aspect of my life of my job and of my frequentazionis. It tried to make to tell me all the appointments that I had in the following days, the parties and the appointments of job. He/she asked a couple of times me if I could go to sleep from her, if it went me to make one weekend in mountain and if you/he/she could give me a jail cell, that I had to always hold power on so you/he/she could track me every time that he/she wanted down.
While it was returning from the bath it stopped him to pay the account. Well.
It brought me in front of house and it extinguished the auto.
«I have a thing for you» it said supporting the hand to few centimeters from my groin.
It held a package gift.
«Discard him/it, from the.»
I removed the tassel and I tore the paper. It was a cellular telephone.
«There is already some credit inside, so you can always find me and I can call when I want.»
«Oh, thanks, but how nice. But it is really the last model. You didn't have to disturb you, thanks.» My recitative tone was derision mixture and false amazement. I tried to give her a kiss on the cheek and her it immediately went to the search of my lips. The takings for half.
As a little boy that asks ten European to his/her/their mother and after the refusal asks one hundred of them, Cristina caressed the flap of my pantalonis.
«Any trouble. Rather, if you want I can make you other gifts. No?»
I opened of release the door of the auto and I did for going down.
«No, you don't have to disturb you, thanks for the evening. You have been nice. I call you back me.»
«You love me?» it howled to it tears throat.
«Tomorrow.»
It waited that I entered from the front door before leaving again, as I did me to diciott'anni with the my first engaged of it, and a kiss stamped him on the hand that sent me with a puff. That gesture made me go up again an effort of nervous.
I arrived above in the house, I breathed a sigh of relief and it escaped me a whispered vaffanculo.
Hardly close to the couch it waited me for the bottle of Chianti that I had opened some hour before. I took a seat me and I tried to remain us attached until the breath it allowed me him.
I allowed to slip the empty bottle on the carpet. The last time that I checked the clock Marc Jacobs that I brought ten minutes the wrist missed to midnight.
Giovanni had sent me a sms": Hey captain, set organized for 6 pm. You are not able and you don't have to miss. It models a lot of figa, good choice."
I looked me for the nth time in the mirror of the bath. The occhiaies were made more and more marked, the uncultivated beard hid as soon as a pale and pale face. Cocaine gave me the strength to go on on the job and I was forced to take some pills to be able to sleep a few times.
Before going out I saw on the table the jail cell that Cristina had given me. I turned him/it to me in the hands, thinking about the destiny that waited for him/it. I did for placing him/it when it flashed me in head an idea and so I inserted him/it in the purse.
The set was prepared in one of the creative rooms of the agency. Big lighthouses illuminated a white cloth, bent. The technicians were making a will the lights, the flashes and the indicators of the times of laying. The photographer from the thick curly head of hair was hidden from a scarf that the face almost all covered her. It minutely checked the objectives to climb on and it went off with a polaroid of the beta photos to a cosmetician that momentarily acted from model.
Giovanni came me meeting taking me sottobraccio.
«Captain, the ship is setting sail. It is everything hello. If we are good, in the turn of a couple of hours we have ended. Tomorrow we will be ready to have the definitive ones to send to the graphs.»
«Well. Excellent, sergeant.»
It brought me from the photographer but my look he was losing in the room to the search of Jennifer. I located her session on a chair, wound in a red bathrobe.
«Captain, she is Chiara. The photographer.»
«To like. I am Francis, the creative manager.»
You limited him to shake me the hand while it was keeping on checking the objectives; my thought was tense to go to know the model. Our eyes were almost crossed for error, when she taken the photographic car and my look followed Jennifer th
at he was positioning under the reflectors. Chiara damped a smile. There was a shake that the back went up again me.
I lengthened the overcoat to the assistant, Giovanni it brought me to the table of the catering and a cup of coffee offered me.
«Now the show starts» it said Giovanni sgomitandomi.
Jennifer positioned in the middle of the white cloth and allowed to slip the red bathrobe that an assistant didn't even pick up you/he/she was a religious relic. The lights extinguished him, leaving illuminates only her from the lighthouses. It was marvelous. You stretched on the cloth, the photographer gave her indications on the position that had to assume. Long hair went to cover the firm breasts of Jennifer, dressed only of a pair of black boots that almost arrived until to her knee. Giovanni allowed to escape a" porca sow that figa." Chiara told her to fold up the left leg so that to cover the completely trimmed pube. An assistant placed on her head a hat from the wide brim, directly projecting her/it in the seventies. The lips dressed by the lipstick that you/he/she would have had to seduce million of men they were even more redheads, illuminated by the lights of the reflectors.
Chiara began to go off the photos, my look was completely captured by that body and I wanted with everything myself to enter inside of her. The room was completely empty, we remained me, Giovanni, Chiara and the manager of Jennifer. We needed intimacy. Illuminated in that way, the model seemed to change himself/herself/themselves every according to whether you/he/she passed in a work of art. I wanted to strip me of my expensive suits and it stuffed the love on the set there. I would have let from Chiara also photograph. That thought erotic descents up to the pantalonis.
The service lasted few more than forty minutes, that seemed to last only some second. The devoted assistant removed the hat from Jennifer and helped her/it to slip himself/herself/themselves the bathrobe.
«Giovanni, goes to tell the photographer that domattina wants on your desk the definitive ones, you will choose them and you will send them to the graphs.»
«But Francis, that is as?»
«You domattina you will choose among the definitive ones and will you send them to the graphs, understood? Fanne a copy also for the Boss. I am busy.»
«Every your desire is an order, captain» it said, while I was approaching me to great footsteps toward Jennifer.
I taken a chair and I took a seat me of side to her. It had an out cigarette among the lips; erotic, it seemed a dirty goddess.
«I am Francis the creative manager. Am I able?» and the lit up the cigarette.
It inhaled a long mouthful of it and he/she left some the lipstick on the filter.
«To like to know you, I am Jennifer. But this you already know him/it, true?»
I saw her the breasts through the neckline of the bathrobe: they were small, firm and the nipples had swollen. It had the greenest eyes that I/you had ever seen. It was a perfect woman.
I made her the compliments for his/her beauty and I explained her how much big you/he/she would have been this opportunity, that would be ended on all the magazines and on all the advertising placards of Italy. I made her see the project of the country and more she the to come true of his/her dreams of more popularity it asked questions. On the first ones he/she was unfriendly and distant; at the end its hands touched mine and the tone of the voice it did more and more him confidential. I made to bring two coke and rum to heat some the atmosphere. Jennifer almost all drained him/it of a sip, decidedly taking of the excitement. I talked her of my knowledges to New York and London in the field of the fashion and some friend emergent director that looked for actresses in grass to insert in his/her productions. Jennifer was loosening to the heat of my promises, the room he was emptying; also Chiara, picked up his/her instrumentation, taken the street of the exit.
Jennifer asked if I could leave her my number of jail cell, just as I thought you/he/she would have gone. I like when goddesses of that caliber raise me to superior god: she had asked my number. In this moment she wanted as me I wanted to enter her. The promises of popularity and success are attractive more than the gold for the thievish magpies.
I threw out of the purse the jail cell that Cristina had given me.
«You hold, I have already saved you my number. There is already some credit inside, so if I have some novelties I know that I can always find you. Ah, forgot, it is possible that a girl calls yourself and you/he/she is possible that if you/he/she hears a female voice answer I/you/he/she become some hysterical. It didn't stuff case and you close the communication.»
Jennifer remained completely without words. It opened the box and it looked at the new and immaculate jail cell shine to the light of the reflectors still turned on.
I bent me some verse of her and I told her low voice:
«It suits you to come to eat something to my house? I live here to few hundred meters from.»
«It is all right» it whispered me approaching the mouth to my ear and turning then us the language inside.
«I wait out here you.»
We lifted there standing, her thanks to the heels it resulted taller than me of a pair of centimeters. It got further waddling looking satisfied his/her new gift. I set out me from the opposite part, toward the exit, with already my cigarette of the triumph among the lips.
It reached me after a quarter of now, I was already to my second cigarette. Wound in a black trench that left his/her legs open chilometriche, he/she took me by the hand and he/she left that I conducted her/it toward my loft.
I found me his/her face to few centimeters of distance, illuminated by the lights of some candles. Is sat on the floor there, on the carpet; we had ordered some vegetarian dishes from the rosticceria take-away not too far house. I had uncorked a bottle of red and her it told around me of his/her life from model for the world, bringing every now and then the glass to the mouth, bathing himself/herself/itself as soon as the lips. I ignited me a cigarette after the other, she sometimes removed from me her from the mouth and he/she took a pair of draughts of it fast. When it put again her/it to me among the lips the filter he/she knew about her: the sour one of the wine and the sweetish one of the lipstick. I saw her the naked legs, the shoes you/he/she was removed and you/he/she had cursed her for the dizzy height of the heels launching her behind of itself. Under the black trench it hid a fantastic lives unstuck, supported by two thin shoulder strap, perhaps too much elegant to hold for trips of job and decidedly still too much summer.
To every word our bodies extended to draw near more always until almost to feel the perfume of our breaths. A bottle of wine lay lifeless on the carpet, while I poured in its glass new wine, just uncorked. Alcohol surprisingly made her/it loquacious; its French lilt, its rolled up erres, the oval form that he/she took the mouth in to pronounce certain words they made her/it incredibly sexy. All of my body pulsated in erection.
My eyes lost completely the perception of I break down him/it remaining to fire on its face. That fringe disarranged that it covered her green eyes, the soft and natural lips on which he passed the fingers dirtying her to him of wine and placing her on mine. I saw his/her suit disappear I set her. By now we were so near that our mouths breathed the one the breath of the other. The lips were touched when John pronounced just to smile would lighten everything in Sexy Sadie.
Wine confused the ideas, the perceptions, the tastes and the perfumes. Our bodies were twisted naked, on the floor, only touching himself/herself/itself. Jennifer extracted from the purse a pacchettino with inside some grams of cocaine. It inserted the finger and it tasted some of it with the point of the language.
«I can offer?» it told me caressing me the breast with the hand.
I taken the pouch and I upset some of it among the breasts of Jennifer, along the belly, almost to reach the pube. It deeply when my kisses invaded its neck up to go down along the white strip that I had just drawn. I kissed her the breasts, then I dipped the nose in the dust and I gone down up to the belly. You twisted him, he/she kisse
d me, it touched me. I felt his/her hands tighten my sex, marvelous, white, almost immaculate, you dirty only from the fingernails lacquered of viola.
The pleasure at first damped and drowned by the wine you/he/she was taking back life, one pulsating inside the other. Our bodies contaminated him; the perfumes and the essences, the fluids mixed him. It was everything exciting, vibrating and energetic. Shake alternated him loosening us in moans to like. The mouth of Jennifer crossed every centimeter of my body, the fingers entered me mouth caressing me the language, belly against belly, I inhaled and I ate every atom of its body. You taken back the pouch with the white and we sniffed together of it, almost with the noses to touch himself/herself/themselves. Up to that a boato, a bright thunder, a stronger shake of the others, extinguished in an orgasmic black-out the whole show.
Dead, tired and wet, I invaded by the pleasure we closed the eyes together and him it did dark.
It was an alarm.
My head fluctuated as in the sidereal space, perhaps the spaceship was in damage. The alarm kept on playing, the dark of my eyes still closed veered to the red. Fire. The breath I felt him/it regulate, my cold body. Fire. The neck went off me toward left, the blood it pulsated strong to the head, to regulate. Fire, came me to mind.
I opened the eyes the light by the orange of the invaded curtains me the visual field. I made a grimace of pain.
It was not an alarm any fire. It was the jail cell that rang on the tavolino.
«Hello? Yes, who is?» I still said before supporting the telephone to the ear.
«Hey man! Ah ah ah. How who am? Your half, Giovanni. I have sent the photos to the Boss, the Boss you/he/she has sent her to the Spaniards and prepared because they come down the day after tomorrow and they pay us. IC PA-GA-NO! They go crazy as soon as you/they have seen the model, the layings and the photos, they want to close the contract and to renew for other five years. Do you return yourself account? Other five years and salaries to five zeros for us! You move your fottuto flabby culo and you come here!»
I still held the attached telephone to the ear some second. Naked, sweaty and I cool as a fetus just gone out of the uterus as a jellyfish spiaggiata, I was extended on the carpet, evidently confused.
Only after two coffees and three cigarettes my brain he woke up from the stand-by. Is sat on the cup of the water when I understood the sense of the words of Giovanni. We had the country, the Spaniards had paid, other zeros to the salary. Great. I succeeded in having the maximum one with the least effort. It is the same principle of the advertising countries to say everything with the necessary minimum of words. I began to laugh alone. I knitted then an instant the eyebrows, something it disturbed the frequencies of my thoughts. A noise of foundation. I tightened the eyes with strength as I wanted to make to go out at random that something of one of my orifices.
Cazzo, Jennifer?
Courses out of the bath crawling for earth the pantalonis that I had slipped; the belt beat violently and rhythmically on the parquet it even was not about to arrive the cavalry. Entirely naked in the mean of my loft, I realized me that Jennifer had disappeared. Of the evening the dead bodies of the bottles of Chianti that we had drunk only remained, the leftovers of the vegetarian food of the rosticceria and a black shred of cloth suspended to the handle of the door of entry. I drew near me and I picked him/it up in hand.
They were the panties of Jennifer, I sniffed her.
We lifted our full wine glasses of Cristal.
To the country, to the lipstick, to us, to Spain and, as all the masculine toasts that respect him to the attractive female organ of which all are gone out. To the Spaniards they shone in the eyes the million of European that would have arrived in their pockets, to the Boss that whole zero on the check, while in my dilated pupils the absolute predominance of the nothing. When I/you/they are overdone I have the tendency to think too much, the too many thoughts do yes to annihilate himself/herself/themselves and to become nothing. Reached the nothing I hum, first solo in my head then to low voice.
To the Boss a cramp had to have come to the arm, every fourth of it now lifted him/it and it ordered a new bottle of champagne. It was already the my fifth one or sixth trip going and return from the bath. I always returned always with the bleached nose and Giovanni him premurava to make the dirty point of my vacuum cleaner notice me.
The dances had opened. The Spaniards got excited in the middle of the footstep, surrounded from prosperous escort that the Boss was preventively gotten for giving a service full optional to his/her clients.
I got excited me in the middle of the footstep with Giovanni; we were so overdone by to make impossible to be after the other, to follow an any rhythm. The lower part pulsated in the belly.
The Boss knew how to organize the parties: that evening the whole agency was there. It needed to celebrate the money the power. Possession everything, immediately to have him/it. It needed to give him a tone, it needed to walk to swollen breast under expensive shirts, depilated, androgens. It was a social orgy, you enter my capital, I enter yours. All absolutely suits of signatures, all with the last model of anything. All perfect ones, all clean ones, all equal the one to the others. It is an alien society.
The time of the being is ended, the era of the possession starts.
Being or to have, this is the problem.
I am not he who anymore it is. From now they are he who it has.
Giovanni broke me on the counter of the cafe, you/he/she pushed too much away me from the insistent glances of the Boss. It checked on the clock the time of my trips in bath, of the runs of Giovanni, my bleached nose.
«You are here now, ok?» Giovanni told me making to sit me on a stool «you do Yourself something to drink and you see to take back you, the Boss is checking you.»
«Ok, ok, ok. I am here. Hey young! Young! A. to coke and rum.»
The barkeeper made to rotate a pair of bottles in front of itself, I had upward still the turned look when the glass introduced under me to the nose. The fottutis barkeepers jugglers. Stimuli arrived late to me, the music confused him in my head. I turned to the right me and left to try to individualize some does known. To the left an ample masculine back dressed of black, to the right a mass of curly hair they hid the identity of a girl. I remained to fix her/it some second, tightening the eyes as to want to put her/it to fire. Then she turned him, the hair the removed him from the face. Its eyes met mine and a proper smile mentioned me in face. A strange shake crossed me the whole back.
«But I know you» I told her ill-manneredly aiming her finger.
«Yes, I would say really that know me. If that Spaniards have unhooked all that money it is also thanks to my photos.»
«Chiara! You are Chiara!» keeping on holding her aimed finger «you See, I knew him/it that you are Chiara.»
«You are out.»
«Perhaps, correct some.»
Chiara was normal. So normal to result even out place. Besides that marvelous mass of curly hair, its face was candid, perfect, slightly distorted by that black glasses that made even her more interesting. It came from another planet or perhaps we was the extraterrestrials and her the only exponent remained of the human kind. I would have liked to kiss that normalcy.
«You come out. You have need to take some air and here it is an appalling boredom» it said dragging out me with an unexpected release.
Taken by the pocket of the jacket a packet of cigarettes and a lighter with drawn above Batman.
I adore Batman. With the years you/he/she has been awarded the title of my preferred supereroe. You/he/she has been a hard battle between Spiderman and he. But Batman has won with his/her usual class. Superman has always been me on the balls: too much invincible and if it threw a lot her. Spiderman has fascinated me for different years. A little boy nerd that after the bite of a spider genetically modified you/he/she can jump of skyscraper in skyscraper and to save a lot of damsels in difficulty. For different time, from child, I looked for aro
und for house of the spiders with the hope that you/they passed me some their powers. But once known Batman has not succeeded in returning back anymore. Bruce Wayne had everything that you/he/she could desire. You/he/she could be him to fatten up on his/her expensive armchair of it in skin and it tightened him instead in that attractive tutina ipertecnologica to go to fight the crime. Without super powers, cryptoniti, cobwebs. Only him, his/her wish and his/her physical strength. Bruce Wayne was definitely a piece from ninety. It was my myth, almost anymore him that his/her alter ego Batman. Anything else other than psychoanalysis, to him all it took is lowering himself/herself/themselves in his/her overall latex sadomaso. To slip in his/her batmobile in the alleys of the most marvelous disreputable city, Gotham City. And to understand in conclusion that the whole world is a merda. After all I felt me some Bruce Wayne.
It opened the packet and a cigarette offered me.
«You hold, we go for a stroll. Does it suit you?»
«Certain, because no. You are very nice you know, you are normal.»
«You keep silent Francis, you are drunk and probably you are also overdone. I don't know of what, I don't even want him/it to know.»
We smoked both, the one of side to the other, in the proper garden in front of the disco. Chiara had hissed me. You/he/she had annulled me how come any girl until then you/he/she had ever succeeded in doing. I was usually me to arouse some subjection in the girls, perhaps because of my position in the social pyramid. But this time was Chiara to make to be me on a lower step. They spent different minutes, then she broke the silence.
«You have been me on the balls from the first moment that I have seen you. You have not even looked me in the eyes when we are introduced there. You are too much.»
«Too much?»
«Yes, you are too much. Too much of everything. You are to the nth power. You are so too, so excessive, that according to me your body hardly succeeds in containing you. Does hand a mask to hide something, true?»
I didn't succeed in saying nothing. The words missed me. Yes, an overdone tantino I was drunk ok. But in other circumstances I would have faced the situation with extreme hulling. This time Chiara was doing to me what the cryptonite did to Superman.
«According to me, behind that suit, to that way of, there is somebody else. I don't know him/it, yet you are interesting. Your excess hides a lack. You have made to overflow a vase and the continuous water to flow himself/herself/themselves on the floor and it will submerge the whole house. I tell you him because I feel me say him/it, because I see after all to that eyes something of good person.»
And Anakin Skywalker came to mind. Padme said that there was still of the good one him. This way I became Darth Vader. I wanted a laser sword and a stellar cruiser. Lost some sentences of the discourse of Chiara: I looked at her/it while I was looking for of risintonizzarmi on his/her words. Is sat on a bench there, the park was dark, absorbed in the darkness. Almost dreadful. As if also that place wanted to try to enter my subconscious. Chiara had found the key for the doors of my mints. You had understood something. There was something of wrong in me. Something of immensely and clearly wrong. I had lived my young life of excesses without getting nothing, if not things. I had a lot of things and nient'altro. The rockstars die to twenty-seven, the advertising ones to twenty-eight. I was converted me to the street of the excesses. They were them to give me the strength to bear a style of life stop, to the limit, totally inconsiderate. Possession things, luxury and notoriety it asks for to have the shiny mind the class. As the airplanes, that to be in air uses some portanza, my silver wings, to which have been anchored always, you/they were losing her/it. The voids of air were made more and more frequent, as the voids of memory. My life from a few years to that part had always been an eternal night in summer. A calm night. The quiet before the storm. The lightnings were to the horizon, and Chiara had shown them to me. I was afraid for an endless instant.
«I believe that you have lost, Francis.»
I closed the eyes and I hid me the face among the hands. I could feel the hands of Chiara caress my back, his/her words to strip me. Naked, dressed only by that suit Dior that at that time he/she didn't know about anything. Because that girl he was taking care of me? A tear went down me. Only in the dark you succeed in seeing the obscurity. I breathed deeply, protected from his/her caresses. It passed me in front of the eyes every meaningful image of my life. I didn't succeed in seeing me the face anymore. I entered a sort of mystical trance, cradled by the caresses and by the words of Chiara. When I removed the hands from the face, she had disappeared. I was alone on that bench. I doubted for an according to whether there had been never and that that had been alone an ugly trip. But on the bench there was the lighter of Batman. I attentively studied him/it turning me him among the hands. You had been there.
A normal angel.
A normal angel had entered me inside and then flies away.
I felt like crying. I was alone in the dark of that park. Only as I had always been him/it. I had reached all the destinations to which I had always inhaled. I had raced along my road losing sight my company, my affections, the horizon, the as and the why. I had raced without never stopping me without knowing the day neither the night. I had passed the finishing lines being lost in my loneliness. Possession so much you/he/she has been as not to have anything. Despite the signatures that I wore, the technology of which I was in possession, the trentasettes credit cards from the whitened edge, the shoes of brand, him zero on the checking account, I returned home and I was alone. The only company that I had was occasional or to payment. And so I have already said everything. Indeed inside of me there was a different Francis from what all knew and it were dead. At that time everything was a mask.
The night was cold and I found me afraid and senseless on that bench. The bristly beard just bathed by the tears. One strange nervous anxious the bowel mixed me, from the throat up to the bowels.
I extracted from the pocket the pouch of cocaine that had made me company for the whole evening. I looked at of it the content in controluce. Us n'era still as much to spice all the isolated. I closed the eyes and I breathed deeply the air of the night, so strongly to make the head almost turn me.
I opened the pouch and I sank there the nose inside. Inhaling with avarice that dust white; I felt the crystals whip me the mucous nasal. I threw back quickly the head feeling the blood that started to go down in throat. I sank in the pouch for the second time, voraciously inhaling even more. The sight became cloudy me and the heart beat in the thoracic cage. As going out too much of a long apnea, I raised the nose from the pouch and I taken air.
I launched the pouch to my shoulders, the dust remained it fell in air. It snowed.
I began to race. I quickly put more and more a leg in front of the other, staggering to the right and to the left. I felt the icy air break himself/herself/themselves in face, strenuously breathing to open mouth. I almost raced more and more fast to want to allow me behind the shoulders that present that instantly it became past. The suit clinged me I set and the jacket of Dior got up behind: it seemed a mantle, I was Batman. It almost seemed me to detach the flight. As soon as the road he consumed under my feet I lost sensibility, the spirit went out of the body as my poor man heart under pressure it seemed to go out of my breast. I felt a kind of alarm play again in the air. I made the first ramp of staircases jumping the stairs two twos. To the second ramp the visual field tightened him notably and the sight became cloudy me. To the third one the legs me cedettero of hit and I ruinously fell on steps; I had the heart in throat, the absent look. In mouth the metallic taste of blood. The alarm persistently played more and more. I rose again me standing, the head it turned vertiginosamente while I was inserting the key in the lock. I supported the forehead to the door, me in before. I appropriated the handle, the door it opened and I fell again, provoking a deaf and sick thud. I fell as Jesus on the street Crucis. The cheek me it almost instantly froze him on the cold parquet. The vib
rations of the alarm kept on emitting him through all of my body. It played. It waved. I had the open eyes, I saw dark. And all extinguished him.
The war is over Page 2
