He never expected a workday like this.
I take my car though the car wash for the fourth time this week, so that it shines and is perfectly clean for Her.
I drive to work, listening to the car radio. Young men and women screaming about want and desire, remorse and pain, love and devotion, bondage and slavery, prison and death and heaven and hell and sex. I feel the music enter the hollowness of my chest, the ragged voices rasping guitars crashing drums. I turn up the volume until the steering wheel vibrates. I light a cigarette and inhale the smoke deep into me and I wish She was in the passenger seat and we were driving to Canada or Mexico or Maine or Montana. I feel cool and sexy and young in my suit and sunglasses. The sun glints off the hood of my car as I smoothly fly down the highway with the radio at full blast.
I am extremely aware of my body, how my muscles feel underneath my clothes, how they flex as I drive, how my palm rests on the gearshift. I am so at ease and comfortable and cool and She is waiting for me, She is thinking about me, She is here and seeing me like this - cool and at ease and sexy and Hers.
At work I make phone calls. I send emails. I write reports. I sit in meetings and speak and think and stare at the clock in my office. How many hours how many hours? At the end of the day, all I can say I did was think about Her and think about Her and think about Her.
At thirty minutes to quitting time, I walk out the door. Fuck it. I am free. The hollow in my chest is huge, my need is physical. I'm tense and shaky. My heart is racing as I try not to run from the building to my waiting car. I open the car door, fling my briefcase into the back seat, fall behind the wheel and start the engine. I am finally going to Her.
When I start the car, the radio explodes and makes me jump. I turn the volume down, put the car in gear and pull out of the parking lot. I no longer feel sexy and strong. I only feel need. I'm driving too fast, risking a ticket. I don't give a damn.
I drive without seeing. I'm picturing Her. Her smile as She opens the door, Her hair, Her eyes, Her lips, Her cheeks, Her hips, Her breasts, Her belly, Her thighs, Her neck. I see Her painted toenails and Her fingertips, Her teeth, the small of Her back. I feel Her breath in my ear, I hear Her voice, Her sighs. I see Her tongue as She talks, as She smiles at me. I hear Her laugh, I hear Her moan with pleasure. I hear the sounds She makes She breaths She whispers as we make love. I feel Her softness and Her firmness and Her wetness. Her heat, Her lust, Her love. I feel Her moving underneath me, over me, away from me, into me. I feel Her moving I feel Her move, I feel Her.
Driving to Her, I am completely aware of Her. I feel Her and see Her and smell Her better than I can sense the reality that surrounds me. I am lost in Her.
I worship Her.
I stare through the windshield as I sit in traffic, the radio softly thumping. The air conditioner blows icy air into my face. The sun, magnified through the windows, heats my skin.
And I, Her priest, sit here in between these extremes of Fire and Ice. I am both Frozen, enslaved by my desire for Her and Burned, consumed with my love for Her. Awed speechless, in a reverie of want and love, I drive on.
I can't go on, but I can't stop going. I can't leave this misery, this euphoria, this enslavement, this freedom. All my dreams turn into smoke and disappear in the wind. I become nothing and She becomes everything, everything.
Finally, I am there. I rush to be enveloped in Her. I feel and touch and breathe and my heart pounds and my mind races and there is nothing, nothing but Her. She welcomes me in with a serious look on Her face. Her fingers and hands and lips touch me and we fall together, holding pulling devouring each other. I think that everything I have gone through has been echoed in Her. I feel Her terrible desire in the hollow of my chest, I feel her want flow into me, filling me, expanding me. I feel her pulse in my veins and I become more than I am.
I am whole now.