Authors notes: This is a short story I began years ago but never finished. I found it among some files long forgotten recently and wrote the ending. It is among my earliest writings and of a more terse style than I have evolved to currently. Be aware that there are some quite intentional sentence fragments and other grammar breakers. I choose to leave them in as written; they fit the terse quality of the writing. The genesis of the story is biographical, but the story itself is fiction. The song verses used through the story are from Suzanne written by Leonard Cohen and first recorded in 1966 by Judy Collins. For those not familiar with Leonard Cohen's musical poem Suzanne, YouTube lists many versions of the poem/song. One featuring Leonard Cohen and Judy Collins is my favorite.
*
Fire just happened, happened the way things often do. Spark was on stage. Tinder was sitting in the audience, not looking for Spark, sitting there on another mission. For Tinder, the mission of the evening was entertainment and escape. Spark was on stage singing and playing. Spark was playing for the audience and Tinder was one of the crowd.
As good entertainers do, Spark projected to his audience, joined with them, brought them along on his journey. Projecting, Spark struck Tinder and there, then and there, a glow instantly took hold. The next song, next notes, blew the glow to ember of nascent flame. A chance meeting during intermission, not chance at all - intended - fulfilled, gave name to Spark and Tinder. Name and promise.
Spark became a real person, DC. Tinder became R. A hand on the forearm, a look and smile, R's hand and DCs smile; not much more was needed to cause the flame to leap. I'll sing a song for you in the next set." "Thank you, I will be waiting."
Lights dimmed, the second set began. Midway, an interlude, retuning of the guitar in concentration and all but silence, and then an introduction: I met a lady tonight, she had a special smile and her smile talked to my guitar. This song is for her.
Introductory chords played and DC's mellow voice began singing softly:
Suzanne takes you down
to her place near the river
you can hear the boats go by
you can spend the night beside her
. . . .
R hummed in her mind, this was a good song to start with, something about knowing she's half crazy. I can be half crazy, all crazy if I choose.
The mellow voice continued, R stared in DC's eyes as he sang to her:
And just when you mean to tell her
that you have no love to give her
. . . .
DC's brown eyes met R's hazel eyed stare, and his eyes did not sing the words of the song. There was something to give, some love to give.
R's eyes and lips joined her suitor and she hummed the next few lines:
then she gets you on her wave length
and she lets the river answer
that you've always been her lover
. . . .
R, eyes closed now, they no longer needed to look at one another for this song at least, they were together. R was waiting for the lines she knew would add further Spark to Tinder. R's lips moved in synch with DC's:
And you want to travel with her
and you want to travel blind
and you know that she will trust you
for you've touched her perfect body
with your mind
. . . .
Her song ended, R began to breathe again, others applauded. The few who knew her stared. R did not hear applause did not see her friends staring. Spark made a final gesture to Tinder, DC blew a kiss.
Spark and Tinder met again in the hallway outside his dressing room. The beer that soothed Spark's throat did not douse the flame that had built. Tinder went to her toes to kiss this singer who had found the chord within her. People passed them, they were oblivious. Here and now was only two perfect bodies, two perfect minds.
"Am I the first black man you have kissed?" "No, not the first." With a twinkle in her voice R added, "The first black man I kissed openly, the others were furtive, at parties. Let me kiss you again and I need to go home."
Bob was home when R returned, of course. He had worked late, but had been home almost an hour. "How was the club, the new performer?"
"Good, solo, acoustic, mellow stuff. You would enjoy hearing him."
"Maybe I can, if he does a late set Friday. Ready for bed?"
"Yes, ready for bed."
> > > > - - < < < <
Three phone calls over four months kept Spark and Tinder together at ember. Three phone calls, two kisses, and memories. "You have babysitting duty tonight Bob; I am going to the club to hear DC. I may be late; I probably will be late." Bob nodded, "Have fun."
R went with DC after the performance. He was staying with a musician friend who was conveniently playing in another city. Four hours of Spark and Tinder created a fire of passion. They shared kisses, and shared conversation. They shared wine, and shared the scent of incense. They shared their perfect minds. They shared their perfect bodies. They shared openly.
DC and R lay in front of the fireplace, kissing, touching, talking softly. Each was unabashed in their nudity; they enjoyed being together this way. DC's dark shaft grew from his midsection; the shape of his cock suited him. It was long, strong, trim, erect - Very Erect. "This IS the first black cock I have kissed. I hope to kiss it many times." DC brought her lips to his, "We share a hope."
R and DC talked of their lives, their interests, and their feelings. They made tender passionate love in front of the fireplace. The setting was appropriate for Spark and Tinder to fully join in flame. After the flame reduced to ember once more, R and DC kissed, talked and touched again.
Their second loving was intense, passion overtook conversation. Kisses and touches no longer sufficed. They had to be joined. Their lips glued together in passion, as did their chests, thighs and loins. DC's dark shaft needed a home inside R's pink pussy. Brown and pink would forever be a special color combination for both. Their hips bucked until their combined fluids once again controlled the fire. Their fluids controlled the fire, but by no means doused the simmering ember.
