Page 4 of View From the Bottom

I’d always been able to draw a line with people, to put them in their respective boxes; they were friends, tricks, or relationship material. Very rarely had anyone crossed over those lines or occupied two boxes at once. Luis was confusing me, though. I wasn’t sure which box, if any, he would fit into. It seemed unlikely that he’d be relationship material. I could picture him hanging out with his boys on a Friday night, getting drunk and not getting home until four in the morning, never calling or texting to let me know where he was.

But that was conjecture. I hardly knew him. I didn’t know what his goals in life were. I knew nothing of his hopes, hisdreams, his ambitions. The kind of life he wanted to make for himself. Nearly the same number of years had passed us by. The same global events. Maybe we could find common ground. We’d had a good time together so far.

But it was wishful thinking.

Maybe.

Probably.

“You wanna come up? I’ve got water. It’s probably warm, but?—”

“Sure.”

He didn’t even have to think about it. He knew what he wanted. Whether that was water, more time with me, or just a fuck, I wasn’t sure. But I couldn’t be bothered to give it too much thought. I would put him in the one-night-stand box and call it a fucking day.

We climbed three flights of stairs in the stagnant hallway. The black-and-off-white tiled landings scuffed with shoe marks were almost nauseating in their complacency. Nothing seemed to move, least of all the air.

Short locks of dark hair, matted with perspiration, stuck to my forehead by the time we reached my front door. I brushed them out of the way with the back of my hand, almost swatting them away. My hair wasn’t long enough to go much of anywhere but it suddenly felt heavy on my head.

Luis stood close to me on the landing as I stuck the key into the lock and twisted it to the left. I could almost feel his breath on the back of my neck, the heat from his frame jumping to mine. He didn’t touch me. He simply hovered, teasing me, leading me on. Turning me on. I pushed the door open and invited him in, turning my head over my shoulder to face him. We were maybe six inches apart. He smiled and thanked me before following me in.

The air in my apartment was still warm, still motionless, still uncomfortable, but felt somewhat better than it did on the street outside. At least there were no exhaust fumes from passing buses and idling cars on the curb, packed with friends and neighbors basking in the air-conditioning.

“Mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Sure. It’s through there.” I motioned toward the bathroom.

My apartment was dim and silent. I heard Luis’s stream hit the bowl and splash into the water pooled at the bottom of the toilet. Damn, these old apartments and their acoustics. While he relieved himself, I threw all the windows open again, trying to circulate some air, and then grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the fridge. They still had the slightest chill to them, and I was eternally grateful.

I stepped over my couch and ducked through the window, pushing onto the fire escape. The densely populated neighborhood sprawled out before me. The scene was the same as it was before I’d left my apartment hours ago, the only difference being the particular faces that inhabited the space.

A few moments later, a presence made itself known behind me, the firmness of pectoral muscles against my back, the weaving of legs between mine, the softness of lips pressing against the back of my neck. Two large hands, calloused and rough and minorly grease-stained, gripped the iron railing on either side of mine. Luis’s physique trapped me in place, imprinting itself on me. The warmth of his body… the intensity of his scent… they pummeled me. Enraptured me.

Sweat beaded on my forehead and dripped down my chest. The sudden discomfort of moisture under my arms took me aback and forced me to address the reality of the situation we were in. Self-consciousness slowly crept into my brain and told me that my freshness had likely expired. That I’d maybe become too ripe to enjoy.

“God, you smell good,” Luis mentioned as his lips disconnected from my neck.

I lifted my arm and pretended to smell myself, a self-mocking gesture meant to lend levity to the situation. “I need a bath.”

Luis kissed me again, this time on the curve of my neck, forcing me to lean my head to one side, to allow him easier access. He then inhaled deeply, pulling the heat from my flesh into his core. “Nah. You don’t.”

My skin was sweat-slicked, only drying long enough for a new batch of perspiration to push itself from my pores. I’m sure it tasted salty and rich, but Luis didn’t seem to mind as he wrapped his hands around my waist and slowly slid them up my sides, just under my T-shirt. His fingertips tickled the fine, dark hair that coated my abdomen and chest. His hands eased themselves around my frame and his fingers brushed against my nipples, causing them to contract and harden under his touch. He kissed my jawline where it met my neck, just below my ear.

And then he stopped.

I didn’t want him to, and his pause didn’t feel final, but he dropped his arms from my frame and placed his hands back on the railing. I took a small step backward and allowed my ass to graze the adequate bulge that had formed in his jeans. Luis moaned into my ear and stayed exactly where he stood.

We simply watched the scene play out in front of us with his lips next to my ear. Witnessed the drama of the city below in the midst of a heat wave. In the midst of a blackout that had halted almost everything. Everything except human interaction.

“They don’t usually last this long, ya know?” Luis started. “I think the longest one I’ve been through was, like, two hours.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Same. It’ll probably come back on soon.”

“I hope so. I flushed the toilet but it wasn’t filling back up. Sorry about that.”

“Shit,” I laughed, turning myself around to face him, leaning my back against the railing, still surrounded by his muscled limbs. “I forgot to mention it. The water’s out. I should have said something.”

He smiled before leaning in and taking my mouth, pressing his lips to mine softly. I returned the gesture and connected with him, opening my lips to pull his bottom one between mine, to taste his mouth. The scent of beer still lingered on him. I’m sure he could taste it on me as well. We kissed, our tongues eventually finding their way into each other’s mouths. The heat between us was intense but gentle. Accepting and reciprocating.