Rendezvous of the lips

She finally agreed to go out on a date with you. A night out on the town. So you take her to this other awesome place for a snack and a drink…

The Art of Kissing by Kam Akistam

It begins with that longing for the lips of another. A subtle taste at the very edge of the end of your tongue as you relish the prospect of arranging a meeting of your lips with hers. You anticipate with yearning the softness, the gentle moan and the ever more gentle bite of a tease of passion signaling what else could be. Yes, it’s the first kiss but no one ever stopped you from dreaming. Then you look her in the eye and you can’t quite get it. Does she or does she not want this meeting to happen. The one you arranged in that location they call midair. At that time that everyone calls appropriate, magical, and simply knowable. Would she be able to keep the appointment which you weren’t quite sure she was aware off to begin with. She talks but all you hear are beautiful sirens wailing to secure the environment of this event. Police cars everywhere and loudspeakers warning everyone to stay back, to make room, to stay clear and let the man take his shot. You see her smile and her perfect rosy lips turn into ribbons cordoning off a restricted area to all but you. Yes, the lips know its going to happen, her heart must know too. You wonder if they have a way of communicating with requests beginning from the lips to her heart.

“Are you listening?” she asks and you reply dreamily, “How can I when you are looking like that?” She blushes. The red on her cheeks screams in a gentle whisper, “I know, I know” You green like a clown making her even more embarrassed. She looks down and immediately you notice her hair. Oh, her hair. You want to reach out and answer its request to be touched. But it doesn’t feel like the right time for that activity. “Your hair,” you whisper without knowing. Your mouth involuntarily engaging in the activity of speech, “Everything about you…” Your voice trails and the rest of the words linger in your eyes. She has to look up to see them. She has to. And she eventually does after half a second, she takes a chance glance only to be locked into an embrace of the eyes. She is now in the arms of your eyes and you can feel the warmth of her soul and you see all the way to its core. She begins to tremble matching your vibrational rhythm. You are shaking with anticipation; she is shaking with something you have no idea about. You mind rushes to the vision of the meeting of the lips, would she keep the appointment.

You imagine her eyes right before they shut in that warm midair connection of the juicy extremities of the face. If they were that intoxicating from that 11 inch distance, they would definitely make you pass out at that 1inch distance. She is blushing even more, “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks You have no answer. You are tongue tied but you wish your tongue was tied around hers. Would that be too much for a first kiss? Of course it would be you think to yourself. But it would be a jolly good “too much” if it were to happen. Was she that frisky? Whoa, you are getting ahead of yourself. For a split second you look worried. She reaches out to place her knuckled index finger on your chin. “Are you alright?” she asks surprising the both of you. You had not even shaken hands yet but she felt comfortable enough to bring you down to earth with that touch of a hand. And you think of the feeling of her finger on your skin. If the touch of her finger felt that good what more her lips on yours.

All of a sudden your face brightens as you anticipate that glorious climax to the evening. The crescendo of the symphony of a wonderful evening with a gorgeous young lady. The keeping of the rendezvous of the lips. She is not the stuff of dreams, you think to yourself, she is the stuff of your dreams. The sound of color reverberates on her face and the picture of music could be heard in her laughter. She would inspire painters in renaissance France. In fact, if you were French and you saw her during that time, you would have become a famous painter. The Monalisa would have had a different name and your…you pause again to look into the eyes of the woman who could see your admiration. Her eyes tell you the news, that time called appropriate was fast approaching and that location called midair was outside. “You want to get some air?” you ask her, and she nods without a word. “Is this real?” you ask yourself, and you are answered by her hand reaching out to yours as you walk out. The warm breeze outside does not at all understand why you are shivering. The breeze gets even warmer, especially in your face as you turn to look at her. She is smiling shyly and you realize, the time was almost upon you. You prepare the air between the two of you for the occurrence. First you tilt your head slightly to the right and smile, you say, “You look mesmerizing tonight” She chuckles a nervous thank you. “I did not think you would go out with me.” “Why?” She asks genuinely interested. You pause for a moment, your lips undecided on whether to smile, be serious or to simply relax and not be so serious. You hide your thinking cap but you keep on thinking. And after the eternity called a split second you finally say, “You are really smart, funny and drop dead…” your voice is becoming hoarse and low so you clear your throat. “Now where was I?” She smiles, you say without even thinking “See, you make me lose it and I never thought I would be able to talk to you…and”

That’s when it happens. The alarm did not ring to let you know it was time. She had been drawing closer with each syllable and you had somehow not seen it. You had not felt her breath close to your lips. You had not felt your heart race faster as that 11inch distance was closed. As her other hand touched yours you simply did not even detect it. It had all felt so magnificently surreal, like the day dream you were having as you anticipated this moment. She had responded to your compliments with one of hers. You had done it. And all you had to do was stand there and be a good host for her mushy luscious lips. They are so soft you think. Then you awaken to the realization and your heart begins to do the hokey pokey as some music plays in the background. “We are kissing, we are kissing” someone yells in your head and your arms slowly raise to cradle her head right around the neck. They confirm her close proximity, they confirm the smoothness of her baby skin and you fall deep into the moment. The glorious meeting was happening and for a split second you were absent, then you were present, and then you were transported. A kiss on the lips.

 

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Allen Matsika

Born and raised in the small town in the land of milk and honey in south central Africa, I moved to the USA to study philosophy. The hope was to understand where humanity had lost its way. I took a historical perspective on the trajectory of western thought and was especially struck by Thucydides' History of the Peloponnesian War. The memorable description of human nature in that book contributed greatly to my understanding of the human condition.

Life is a misery to be endured until we die. Even those with terminal illnesses find times of respite and laugh and enjoy their lives. So too is mortality a terminal illness. We will all die, I for one am glad this is so. But before that day I will define myself, I will not go without giving everything I have got, and I will love with all my heart.

I am proud to be an Afropolitan; a world citizen of African descend. I am called Allen and I love writing, eating, and singing in the shower!

Allen Matsika

Born and raised in the small town in the land of milk and honey in south central Africa, I moved to the USA to study philosophy. The hope was to understand where humanity had lost its way. I took a historical perspective on the trajectory of western thought and was especially struck by Thucydides' History of the Peloponnesian War. The memorable description of human nature in that book contributed greatly to my understanding of the human condition. Life is a misery to be endured until we die. Even those with terminal illnesses find times of respite and laugh and enjoy their lives. So too is mortality a terminal illness. We will all die, I for one am glad this is so. But before that day I will define myself, I will not go without giving everything I have got, and I will love with all my heart. I am proud to be an Afropolitan; a world citizen of African descend. I am called Allen and I love writing, eating, and singing in the shower!

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