segunda-feira, 3 de outubro de 2011

Beneath the table

Esse pequeno texto escrevi no isolamento de uma roça nesse fim de semana. Qualquer semelhança com a realidade é mera coincidência. Desculpem meu parco inglês: Qualquer erro, sintam-se à vontade para corrigir.

"A smile, a whisper... The foot gently caresses the leg. Straightens the glasses, and a twinkle. The message was received. The fingers massaging over the socks, the climate is warming, and the game continues. Looks, blinks, and the massage beneath the table. A card, a fondling, and inadvertently touches some private parts. A chill, and it all begins again.

An unsuspecting hand searches a forbidden track. Words are spoken in vain, always with uppercase interlineations. The game must go on. The cards are dealt, and more looks, and more twinkles, some more meaningful than others.

The guiding hand takes the other one’s. A fondling, a massage, a smile, a whisper. It’s forbidden, it’s in public, no one should never know about that. The stars are getting closer. It’s moving, repeatedly, constant, no interruption... The stars are coming, coming, cumming...

The more time passes by, the more it gets far from reality and the more it looks like a dream. The glasses straightening, the socks massage, that pure smile full of malice... No such things are real, it was just a phrenitis... The best I’ve ever had."

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