Point of No Return

 

 

Neither flinched as each stared into the eyes of the other.  Their locked gaze was fixed, soft but strong.  Each, with senses heightened, waited on edge for the next move.  And with lightning force it came.  He grabbed her arms above the elbow, one in each hand.  His muscles strained as his fists clenched down, showing either frustration, intensity or some evolving combination of the two.  Her arms began to ache from the affront.  She felt an urge to fight back or even lash out.  But she could not.  Her tone was primal, and she wanted to feel the strength of her man.  Her eyes glanced down.  She could only stand there, anxiously awaiting what would come next.

 

Then it came, no less primal from his part.  With immutable motion, he stepped her backward.  The grip undaunted, he pressed her into the wall.  She could feel his breath on her skin, rapid and wild.  She could feel his blazing glair, though she dared not return it.  There they stood, locked for the briefest moment.

 

He then closed his eyes and leaned forward with a kiss.  But when she opened hers, she found him only staring back with a curious smile.  Emboldened, he leaned back in and their lips truly connected.  Like magnets snapping together, they lunged into each other.  Any wavering ceased and their embrace deepened.  Their tongues, at first only timidly probing, burst into a full synchronized dance.  The curse of their mutual solitude finally shattered in a blinding release of passion.

 

Suddenly a loud wrapping on the door broke the moment.  It was immediately followed by the muffled voice, ÒWhatever you were doing, donÕt both-a.  I brought pizza, word to the moth-a.Ó

 

Then from another direction, a voice belched forth, ÒThatÕs the pizza.  Go get the door.Ó  This voice echoed from a back room where Uncle Gus had just woken from his sleep.

 

With this, the lovebirds split apart, and he got the door.  From behind it was revealed a lanky character clad in the unkempt clothes of a forever-bachelor.  His ratty, dirty-blond hair spilled down from around his dirty, red ball cap, frayed around all edges.

 

ÒWahhh!Ó  The visitor crouched slightly, taking squatted steps exaggerated from side to side to enter.  The two pizza boxes, precariously balanced, eventually found their way onto the kitchen counter.

 

ÒHold your horses, there, Uncle Farts.Ó  Gus had emerged from the back upon the promise of pizza, but the visitor maneuvering into this way.  ÒYou owe me some cash.Ó

 

ÒYeah?  Did you remember my Slim Jim?Ó Gus retorted.

 

And on the perpetual battle resumed.

 

 

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