We had a plan. To spend the night in a room. It was a time when nothing had sense and we were just fooling around.
-You and your songs.- said her.
-It makes me get into my mood.- I replied.
-Am i not getting into this mood?- And she kissed him. She put her hand on his chest and enjoyed that kiss.
-It’s just a start, just play me around.-
They walked hand in hand through th streets. The afternoon felt so anonymous. Without a name and a debt for a moment, they went together into a place. By that time, they were sharing a new sound device, as we know them as bluetooh earbuds, something fancy. They shared a few musical genes but this afternoon wasn’t starting that good for him.
When I Fall in Love – Ben Webster
The song was starting and they were approaching down in that street, the sky was getting cloudy. The cars were parked randomly. At the end of that street was that -love hotel-. Murakami really screwed me up with that word. I was smiling but there’s no more words for describing. That down tempo were getting me into the mood and I grabbed her hand, she was listening the same as me. In that company, both hearts gets the feeling in both ways, as the piano and the saxo are quite different sounds but their rhythm made harmony to get the door. They registered to the attendant and both sights were accomplices. They were going to have sex. More than that…. they were going to become lovers. They walked to the lift, and a dim yellow light were colouring the scenario. Inside the lift, he pressed her body against his body.
It amazes me by Blossom Dearie was playing along. Her deep breathing was a sign of her desire, His heart was beating. It was pounding like drums, flowing that boiling blood before turning his eyes on hers. That kiss was real. Meant to be given for no one else. It had her name, and for that night becoming timeless, a ninth floor were dinging anouncing a stopped elevator. They were walking like two teenagers, devouring each other. Passion were just an accent, a french accent for every kiss given before entering the door.
-Were you picking up those songs before getting me here?- She asked. While a non intentional “When or where” by Clifford Brown was making a perfect rendez-vous, he smiled, put a finger on her lips. He caressed her face. He grabbed her hand and led her like a slow ball dance. Nothing else matters. They were melting each other while that song ended.
-Would you mind closing the door first?- said her… He was behind her sliding his hands over her waist and her legs. They were a few steps away. When the door closes he turn his head to his left shoulder and she wasn’t there. She was in the bathroom. Her purse was on the bed. Her jacket. Her earbuds were still on.
He got his boot off an got undressed, and put everything to a night table under a dim red light. Those rooms were designed to be eternal. He took a look to the ceiling while “Only Trust your Heart” of Stan Getz and Astrud Gilberto. A ceiling full of mirrors. Dim light. A cold breeze and a leg from the bathroom were just stepping in towards him.