Beyond This Illusion

I had a dream. I dreamt of the most beautiful melody a person could ever hear. It was as if thousands of angels sang together, so softly, so innocent. A melody so beautiful that can make you smile the same way it can make you cry. I opened my eyes, craving to hear that melody again. Like a portend, like it knew, the small piano keys quivered, making my legs move towards it.

From my place at the door frame, with my shoulder placed on the hard, cold wood, I watched. I listened. Tiny white fingers on white keys; a contrast that only made sense in my eyes. And the melody floated through the room like autumn leaves falling from the trees, taken by the wind.

I remembered the first time I felt the touch of those fingers against my skin. It was by accident it was not intended, but it happened, and the way it did… I never wanted to forget.

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She had the longest legs I have ever seen in a girl. Such a tiny creature. So tiny you could carry her in your pocket, put her in a colorful box, and keep her forever. And like any other, the first time I saw those legs, I wanted them wrapped around my waist. I wanted to hear her voice screaming mine while thousands of thousands shiny droplets of sweat slide down her neck, her skin.

To leave a trail of butterfly kisses alongside her jaw line that shaped her face into a perfect circle.

To have her fingers tangled in my hair, while sigh after sigh, and moan after moan, she would repeat my name in the sweetest agony and pleasure.

I remembered the first time I spoke to her.

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The night was young, so young that you could still see the glimpses of Sun's rays far, far away on the horizon. My closest ones, they took me for a night in town filled with alcohol and girls with questionable morality. They talked sweet and lured with their fake eyelashes and I would be lying if I said I did not enjoyed it. The whole me.

Until the door opened and the entire world was put on mute. Everything. The sounds, the movements, the lights, the smells. The small sounds of heels clicking against hard pavement, the shivering of the summer fabric through the air, the sparkles that made the blond hair so appealing to me. Nothing mattered but the vision that was happening in front of my eyes.

I wanted to be a part of her. To be inside of her, to feel the skin between her thighs on mine, squeezing hard.

To have her baby pink painted nails digging in the back of my arms, leaving the imprint if her nail polish on my skin. Like a tattoo. Permanent and forever.

To make her crave for more, while she had just finished.

I remembered the first time I kissed her lips.

----

Then the morning came, and another evening of sweating in front of fairly sized group of strangers. And another night. This time, I took my closest ones for a night in town. Filled with alcohol and girls with questionable morality. Only, I was not paying attention to any of them. I waited. I longed for a replay. And like a carefully planned accident, it happened.

The same way. The same feel. The same girl. Different dress. Shorter.

So I did anything humanly possible to make her notice me. All my efforts fell in water when I saw her dancing with some stranger, her body close to his.

I got sloppy seconds from someone I did not know of; I took the first girl that needed comforting. I could care less. I saw her closed eyes while her tongue washed my face with saliva; I watched over her dark extensions that were poorly done, looking at the one I wanted, but I could not have.

She smiled a smile that put Sun's shine under a shame, her eyes closing as she talked, moving her lips so delicate and her hands adding to the effect of what, I though, was the most interesting thing ever.

As the night ripened, and the crowd got bigger, I saw my opportunity when she stood up, walking gracefully towards the bar. So I ditched the girl with fake volume hair, and moved my feet the same path she did. And little by little, I found her sitting next to me, talking fast and without order. Small things, meaningless things, but at that point in time, they seemed like the most important things in the world.

I walked her home, keeping her safe and warm with my jacked around her shoulders and my arm draped over the leather material, like it always belonged there.

And under the glittering stars I kissed her lips. So soft and inviting.

That night I wanted more.

That night I went back to my house, finishing myself what I wanted to finish with her.

I remember the first time I felt the warmth of her thighs.

I remember the first time we made love.

----

We spent so much time together. Our kisses left me longing for more, always longing for more, but she always denied me that right. At times, she would let me slide my hand under her shirt or under her dress, sneaking my fingers into the fabric that I made my mission to remove completely.

So many times we spent at the back seat of my car, her legs around my waist, her hands in my hair, biting her lip. My hands traveling under her summer dress. Further and further until I found what I craved for. She moaned softly, like it was for the first time. Every one was unique, and every one was different from the other. It was for the smallest second, because every time I would go inside, she would snap like waking up from a dream, pushing me away, making it impossible for me to lull her back into sleep. One after another, our little rendez-vous left me frustrated and always with a trace of her. A scent that I would remember for hours while driving home and running into bathroom, finishing off myself.

I remember when I realized I was in love.

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The old grand piano, covered in dust and forgotten melodies called my name. Called for me to play it, to squeeze those white and black keys like none before. The small, wooden stool was even harder than I remember it being, but there was no pain, nothing. Just an infinity of emptiness. Every melody I played reminded me of her. I gave up on making something with it. But she was there. Standing with her shoulders leaned on the door frame. Watching. Listening.

She smiled. A smile that killed all of the angels taking notice sending them into blissful death. Softly, not even making a sound she walked over to me, and standing on the tip of her toes, she kissed me.

And that night she didn't pushed me away when I removed her summer dress all the way. She held onto my arms, screaming and crying.

I kissed her tears away. She screamed some more.

Her legs wrapped around my waist, squeezing hard, so closer to me. She arched her back, she bit her lip, she made permanent marks on my arms. But she let me in. So I left the trail of butterfly kisses on her neck. I had her scent carved into me. Like a tattoo. Permanent and forever.

And, I could never get enough of her screams and moans that were so soft, so unique. Like it was for the first time.

----

The music stopped. She turned in her seat facing me. Always with a smile.

Wearing nothing but one of my old shirts she walked to me. Her arms around my neck and on her tip toes.

"I love you Tyson Ritter," she spoke.

And hearing those words I knew that it was worth the time.