She thought it would be tricky to get along with him that night;
this arrogant, sexist man.
He reminded her of when she was younger –
more accepting of men’s chauvinistic remarks.
Maybe this kindled a yearning for her youth?
His girlfriend was at home,
she wasn’t known to her.
His presence was comforting – his kindness, refreshing.
His warmth? Well she needed that.
The minium 6am light gave a false sense of familiarity as they learned one another’s bodies.
It’s always been there between them:
the weight of possibilities yet the burden of missed opportunities.
But something shifted that night.
Cachaca and gin tethered the girls together.
They entwined their painted fingers
and caressed each other’s legs under the tables.
Tension builds and privacy beckons.
How long were they in there?
But all the previous men hadn’t given her the passion she found in that room.