The Park Avenue Hovel, page three

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He lay alone in it, one stranger to another,and felt himself relax, heart slowing and harsh breathing quieting as he let the nightmare, feeble product of his unaided imagination, out of his system. The air conditioning cycled on, taking the humidity out of the September air, fluttering the sheets on its way out of the floor vents. Calmer now, he swung out of the narrow bed, stretching in the pre-dawn gloom; still shaking, his hand reached for the nightstand drawer for something to steady himself. The liar's aspirin tube rattled louder now, emptier than it had been in a year, and Michael gazed at its contents all unsealed before reducing their number to four, the alkalide bitter on his tongue.

    In wet weather the back stairs fairly screamed; now, though, they only grumbled under careful feet avoiding the third one down, which went off like a pistol no matter the season. Once below the pier and beam foundation, things were quieter, the underpinnings of the house well settled into the native clay which had been limed to set up around them. The settings for those long support beams, as well as the basement between them, had been blasted out before explosives had been well regulated.
    Felix skipped the last stair, hopping down onto the oldest carpet left in the house, and dumped his backpack onto the antique sideboard that took up half the corridor. Not stopping to turn on a light, he toed off his shoes and sloughed out of his jacket, imperfectly shedding the pall of cigarette smoke that clung to him. The instrument case he held changed hands as he stripped off the rest of his clothes, at last tucked safely onto a shelf beside the low bed where he stretched out, naked skin glowing faintly under light pollution that seeped in through ground-level windows. He whistled in the dark under the stairs, repeating the few simple bars still bouncing around his head, an unattached refrain.
    Morning spread out over the neighbors' lawns, crawling up the street and slipping down the drainpipes. Long after securing its hold on the surrounding neighborhood, the light of day fought its way through Yarbough House's thick-limbed live oaks, planted as saplings, now reaching the rooftop. It made its furtive way through ground floor windows and into dusty corners, slipping unobserved through the French doors that lead off the second floor balcony-- the balcony original, the doors a later addition-- and pushing the curtains aside into the master suite.
    When Gwen drifted out of the shower, Adrienne was just waking, half-wrapped in sheets and last night's sleep; unobserved, Gwen stopped on the threshold and looked at her. There was something about the girl, present in some detail of light or trick of perspective, which caught her up short but evaded direct scrutiny, a secret gone as soon as it came. She cleared her throat as she came fully into the room, toweling her hair vigorously, robe clinging to wet curves. The girl rolled over then, smiling cloudily up at her, and stretched her full length in the bed.
    "Morning."
    Gwen smiled in return, settling her hair behind her ears and the towel around her neck. "Good morning. And what are your plans for today?" She sat on the edge of the bed, admiring the naked body the sheets pulled away from, tracing slow circles over exposed skin as Adrienne mustered a response. The girl shivered under her fingers and Gwen stopped; hand remaining half under the sheet, she looked up, all apologies. "I'm sorry. I'm distracting you. Should I stop?"
    Dark curls tumbled against the pillow as Adrienne shook her head vigorously, and Gwen laughed before resuming her caresses. The girl sat up halfway, pulled the towel away from Gwen's shoulders, and slid her own hands under the robe that obscured her lover's skin, laughing as Gwen's fingers found further places. The sun stretched under the curtains and across the floor, and had reached the mirror in the bath before they rose again.

Posted at Sunday, November 8, 2009 11:25 AM
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