A knock on the door. Jack starts to open his tired eyes. He swings his hand above his head as if trying to swat away a fly. He grunts. A louder knock just leads to more of his grunting.
"Go away!" he says, while wawing his hand in the air. His face still slobbing all over the pillow. The knocking doesn’t stop. It continues in intervals of three knocks. Then a pause, then again. Jack’s head is hurting. He lifts himself up with the utmost difficulty. He then moves his legs so they reach the floor, now he’s sitting on the bed, head between his hands.
He gets up, “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Looking through the peephole he notices the person standing in front of his door is her. The reason for this throbbing pain in his head. The room was a mess.There was evidence of a drunken night on the bedside cabinet. A more-than-half drunk bottle of the cheapest whiskey from the Indian liqour store on the corner, with the always suspective, cross eyed seller.
The mission clean the room in less than 1 minute now started. He started throwing every piece of clothing he could find on the bed or on the floor directly into the nearest closet. He did the same with the bottle of whiskey. He left the cigarettes in the ash tray, as they were before. The glass of whiskey also still decorated the cabinet. It was a perfect decadent still life image. He reflected for a second on that image. Then went to the mirror and tryed to fix himself as best as he could in those 2 seconds. “I’m coming,” he kept on repeating, so she wouldn’t leave him again. With a swift move he fixed his hair in place than almost ran to the door to receive the most beautiful gift a man could get in the morning.
Wearing nothing but boxers he opened the door. “Hey. What are you doing here so early?”, he said. He opened the door wider and stood sideways until she walked in.
"I brought coffee," she said, "black. Just the way you like it." Jack responded with a simple "I can see that. Thank you." He was not feeling tip top at this point, but seeing her helped a lot. She wore a casual combination of jeans with a grey printed t-shirt. Her knees were exposed and her skin radiantly glew when touched by the sun rays that pierced through the blinds. They sat down at the table.
They sat there across from each other nothing but an ashtray full of last night’s cigarettes and undeniable tension between them. The silence was broken only by the loud sips that each took of their coffee. Eyes locked and focused the whole time.
Jack reached behind him, rocking in the chair for a second and brought forth a pack of cigarettes. He casually tapped the back of the box and took out the fag that slipped the farthest. “Want one?” he offered to Mary. “No, thanks. I quit.” she responded. “Yeah, me too. Several times.” said Jack.
Jack leaned forward and placed both of his elbows on the table. The right hand held a cigarette, which was now placed on his lips and a second later it was casually burning it’s short life away caught between the index and the middle finger.
"Not that I mind you being here, but what are you doing here exactly?" he asked.
"I don’t know. I needed to see you."
"All right. Now that you’ve seen me, what’s next?" he asked as he blew the smoke into the air.
She stood up and slowly started walking around the table, carefully sliding one of her left hand fingers on the table, seducing Jack with every step she took. He sat there mesmerized, mouth slighty open, he knew what was coming. A tornado of lust. Code red. Run for your lives. Those 2 seconds felt like an eternity. Could he fight it?
"Oh what the hell!" he exlaimed. threw the cigarette on the floor and reached for those curves. He grabbed them gently and then firmly pulled them closer, and closer, untill he was breathing her exhales. He felt her warm breath on his cheeks and he felt her firm body in his palms. They sat in that chair, Mary in Jack’s lap, forehead against forehead. Just looking at eachother and breathing. And looking and breathing..