I look at the shelves, empty shelves, read government announcements on both sides of the border, where citizens are invited to accumulate supplies. You still don't see people wearing masks like last time.
Here it is different; people follow the recommendations; they start to run out of cereals, pasta, cans. I'm still on my list, ignoring the requests. It wouldn't be the first time I've done it. I await the tram's arrival standing in the cold of winter that I still chase and remember the first time.
I arrive at the airport, I notice the relaxed attitude, but with faces semi-covered by masks. People wait for their flights to leave the capital and get away from the virus magnified by the paranoia infused by the levitating, fear has generated an exodus, better to leave the place.
I follow my way towards home. The journey, the week, the wear and tear of a week in a job that becomes routine, uninteresting and in a barren city, all make me think that the virus is the least of the calamities. Tomorrow will be another day.
I'll wait for you outside your house, an apartment in a block of red brick buildings. The epidemic has cleared the streets, so we can enjoy the city as we please.
Even in the most popular areas, you can hardly see someone. Few people ignoring the recommendations, they are added with the clueless ones, all of them today take over usually busy streets. Along the way, an army truck delivers masks for dozens, pedestrians who gather waiting to get some, who cares if masks are useful, whether they're masks or napkins, they're still free.
We left the car and headed to the most inappropriate place to eat. We are in a public market in the downtown area. It is not the ideal neighbourhood to face an epidemic, but it is home to one of the gastronomic gems for whom joy is the best antidote to the closeness of death. Let's eat and drink; we'll die tomorrow.
I go back to the cold, now I'm lined from head to toe, across the streets carrying the usual groceries. At least in the previous one, I had the good fortune of good weather, the heat of other latitudes and summer.
When we enter the market, we notice that we are not the only ones who want to say goodbye giving pleasure to the body. Many eyes are following us, or should I say they follow her. Her clothes are more suitable for a nightclub than for a market. Her blue denim summer dress exposes most of her legs, which end in open nightclub shoes. Lovers of earthly pleasures cannot resist and decide to look.
She enjoys the attention, the response she generates in the desire of others. She goes through life with that naturalness on her body, enjoying without any prejudice, is free and has no qualms about proving it. I found that out at a mutual friend's birthday celebration.
There was something in the club that was in sight. The tight blouse she wore marked her silhouette. You could entirely appreciate the shape of her breasts, every contour, every detail. She enjoyed the feeling of the fabric on her breasts, her body responding to contact with the material and caresses disguised as dancing. It was as if she had the torso naked, she knew it and was a pleasure the attention on her body.
Sitting on a bench in one of the market corridors, her dress, shortened by her position, almost wholly exposes her legs. We look at each other in the eye while holding in her hand a little one or glass with wine that paints her lips red. I approach to say something to her ear, and my leg is placed between hers, separating her legs, a gesture that she corresponds with a smile.
I keep walking with my load, remembering sensations, icy among the images that today look so distant. One comes to mind.
It's the second time I've seen her. We've been sitting inside a church. Those behind her, have the view of her naked skin, in the front, her dress shows the beginning of her breasts, sitting on her side, and you can entirely appreciate her shape. The next image is on the dance floor. She moves her hip against my body, and she can feel my response to her movement. My hand follows the small line of her little piece of cloth underneath her dress, which I guess barely covers the front of her body, exposing the rest of her body. She likes to feel my answer.
That said, she goes through life without any prejudice. My inexperience makes me hesitate about what to do. She smiles, and knows what she has provoked and leaves. In my head, I review the movements when we were dancing, feeling her body against mine. I imagine what I might have done. I'd kiss her, walk her neck slowly, feel her naked back. I'd sit down and wait for her to follow my movement by sitting over my legs. I'm sure she'd unbutton her dress and release her breasts. I'd kiss them, feel every pore of her skin with my mouth. I imagine her there, half-naked sitting over me, kissing me. She'll move towards me, just like she did when she was dancing. And then what would I do? I've never gotten that far with anyone.
I would walk through her body with kisses, undress her, feel her skin, learn her ways. Would I be in control?
People are hostile and suspicious in the street. They cling to live, but more out of obligation than by joy. These are weird days.
We decided to go back to her apartment, most of the shops in the city are closed. The only places that are left open are the ones delivering food. She takes a couple of beers out of the fridge and gives me one. She shows me pictures of her trip through Spain, of the Pyrenees, tells me anecdotes. She's slowly approaching.
I am nervous, her hand is placed on my leg and gives me a long kiss, and I can feel the softness of her mouth, of her lips. Our mouths explore each other. I'm getting excited, and at the same time, I try to disguise. She sits on me as we keep kissing. Her dress goes up. I can feel her body against mine, the movement of her hip. I touch her legs that are completely exposed. She notices my nervousness. I confess I've never been with anyone. She smiles. She doesn't believe it and tells me to relax.
Police dissolve groups of friends who gather in the street, disperse them. They are usually groups of teenagers alone, who must be annoyed by the lockdown or rather, of such lockdowns. There are different ones.
I go back to my previous lockdown. She walks away and leaves me sitting down. Then, she turns on a horn, and the music starts playing, she starts dancing and gradually unbuttons her blue dress. One by one, the buttons reveal her body. She plays with my desire, moves slowly to the rhythm of the music. She exposes her figure, untie the bar at the centre of her dress, opens it, turns it, lets me see her, her eyes are attentive to my expression, she smiles, it's a game for her and knows what she's doing. She strips off her dress and gradually approaches without turning away her gaze, with that smile.
She keeps going with elegant movements, and without a doubt in her eyes. She is like a cat that plays with the mouse that it's at her mercy. She approaches again and sits on me, kisses me, my hands run through her skin, I can feel the softness, I fill myself with her smell. I kiss her breasts, and she squeezes my head against her body. I touch every part of her, her back, her butt, her legs. She is barely covered by lingerie that highlights her shape and contrasts with her skin tone.
She starts to unbutton my shirt. Once that's over, she unbuttons my belt and my pants. She removes them. Gradually she stands between my legs. I feel her hand touching me, and she laughs at my face, reminds me to relax. She grabs me, and I can feel the caresses of her mouth, wraps me with her mouth and the movement of her hand that makes me twist, she keeps looking at my face, and I see that laughter. I take her by the arms and kiss her, and she gets back on my legs. My hands seek to unbutton her clothes and release her breasts.
She kisses me. Now I can feel her breasts, kiss them, taste them. At the same time, she moves her hips over me. My hands are still running through her body. I direct her to the couch with my arms, and now I stand in front of her. I start the journey to her body. From her mouth, I go along her neck, follow through her breasts, kiss her nipples, abdomen, and navel. She watches, her hands are on my head as if she is pushing myself where she wants me.
I wonder if she'll remember all this? Did she remember it that way? What would she say about this new pandemic?
I kiss the small area that remains covered by a small piece of cloth. My shyness prevents me from continuing. She smiles, places my head between her legs, while I keep kissing her, accommodates me and presses with my mouth on the fabric, I can feel her moisture, as my hands run through her legs, her hips. She takes my hands and places my fingers between her skin and the fabric. With her move, she invites me to take off her panties. She raises her hips, and I can finally see her completely naked, I try to memorize the image.
I ask her to show me her pussy, to show herself all. She says nothing. Her answer is to open her legs, with her hand open her lips. I could see the moisture between her folds and with a gentle circular movement of her fingers began to masturbate herself for me. I don't know what she sees in my face, but she lets out a laugh. She takes one of her fingers and gives me a taste of her more intimate liquor.
As if I were a fish, I follow the hook of her finger, she guides me to feel the softness of her wet skin, feel that smell of sex, and I started tasting her it with my tongue following her instructions. She directs my head as she moves her body, her legs hug me, my hands take her from the butt, I want to feel her completely, I want to feel her orgasm in my face, soak my face with her. I can feel her answer to my movements, her hands in my hair tell me the rhythm. My mouth serves her pleasure, she arch of her back, moans and breathe harder and harder.
I feel her hips' movements on the edge of the chair while I'm there kneeling before her. She firmly took my hands with hers, and after listening to her, I can feel how, with a sudden movement, she separates me from her body. Take my face and kiss me deeply. And in my ear, she orders me to follow her.
She got up from the couch, took a few steps and stood in front of me, I followed her, and when I reached her, she took my hand and led me to her room. I feel my heartbeat accelerate, sweat in the palm of my hands. She sits on the edge of the bed. I feel her hand on my body, and she directs me inside her, I stare my gaze to our bodies, I can see how I gradually got inside her, as I penetrate her pussy. I feel her body from the inside. She squeezes me and turns me back. And then she starts to move her hips rhythmically.
I kiss her body as my hands run all over her back. In my ear, she says the following sentence: "I can stay like this all day". I try to put up with as much as I can and see the expressions she makes in her face. I feel it enveloping me, as it squeezes me with the inside of her body. I hear her moaning, feel her sweat, and I kiss her breasts which I love it.
To my surprise, she gets up, and without taking her eyes off mine, she says, "You owe me." She kneels and with her mouth and her hand dominates me, in her gaze, I can see that she is in control, I am at her mercy. My whole body is being overwhelmed by the movements of her mouth and her hand. I can't resist anymore and explode. I see in her face satisfaction, she was the one who decided how and at what point I could feel that spasm, she dominated my orgasm, she controlled me, and my body followed her orders. She looked at me and said, "You can stay if you want, but you have to follow a rule. The rule is that we're naked all the time for the rest of the weekend."
I wonder what she's going to do now, these days in the new epidemic? I like to think she's still that free, uninhibited soul who wants to walk around naked and at night look at the moon.
I find myself in the supermarket, lined up to get in, all away from everyone, all suspects of all.