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*
From the moment the ice hit her oblivious ass, Kristi launched upright, executed a clumsy pirouette and glared at the man standing behind her. His jaw slack and a horrified expression on his face, Mark gesticulated wildly in a poor attempt to mime the tragedy. The deafening music left little room for an auditory explanation. This unique circumstance led to an unexpected resolution.
"Lunachicks" were touring, promoting their "Babysitter on Acid" CD. As a Deejay for a campus/community radio station, Mark picked up free tickets for the show. New to the city he went alone.
The all-girl-band was electrifying. There was a multitude of bodies jostling and pressing against each other; crammed to the rafters, it was a cyclone of dancing and moshing. Barmaids never made it to the darkened recesses of the bar. The going was laborious and not without danger. Slipping on a beer soaked floor would not be amusing.
The volume was deafening and Mark stuffed a small tear of toilet paper in his ears; it filtered out the distortion. Useful if you wanted to maintain an auditory capacity late into life.
Mark sat on the edge of the stage staring up at the lead guitarist grinding out chords dressed in an outrageous array of colours and fibers. Laughing and grinning, Mark enjoyed himself, the views of the crowd and the band couldn't be better. The sweaty girls dancing front stage, with tight fitting tops and luscious smiles were delicious eye candy.
Hopefully one of these girls is coming home with me tonight
, he thought.
Half way through the show Mark elbowed and pushed his way to the bar for more water, he didn't drink alcohol. There was no defining line-up to the counter; no differentiation between the sweaty people wanting thirst quenching drinks and the crowd socializing or dancing. Waiting for what seemed like an eternity, he finally got his prized glass of ice water. After tipping generously Mark struggled through the masses to find a different vantage point from which to observe the revelers and the band.
Catching himself as he was about to topple over a row of partiers sitting on, what seemed like the dance floor, Mark wobbled and regained his balance. There were two steps on this side that lead to the main dancing area. People were hunkered down all along the stairs catching a moments repose, getting ready to re-enter the mob with hips gyrating and arms flailing.
From the slightly raised vantage-point, he could observe the sea of heads moving in a chaotic thrashing of bodies, attempting to synchronize to the beat of the music. Elevated highballs and beer bottles refracted the light from the lasers and mirror ball; cheers spontaneously erupted every few seconds. Hoots and hollers greeted the ending of every song, maddeningly propelling the crowd to lurch as one towards the stage like a school of fish. The Lunachicks, fully in their element, screamed back, laughing and provoking them, elevating the energy to outrageous levels.
Standing on the top tier, careful to not step on anyone's hands or fingers, Mark stomped and cheered with the rest of them, lost in the pounding rhythm of the music. His hand wrapped around the slippery glass of ice cold water as it seeped and sweat condensation. As he tossed his head to the beat, the glass slid from his hand. And as he snatched and clawed at empty space, the ice and what little water was left, tumbled down to splash on the floor. Miraculously, the glass was prevented from bouncing off unsuspecting heads. However, a few choice cubes of ice lodged themselves in the crack of the girl's jeans sitting directly below.
Rising in one swift explosion of movement and turning to look behind her, was a tall, athletic woman. Standing below him yet looking down into his face, she gave Mark a withering stare. Drawing his head up to meet her eyes, his jaw opened and closed. Sputtering and heaving her chest in his face, she grimaced and screamed at the top of her lungs, "What the fuck was that?"
Mark quickly found his voice again and instantly spurted out "Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I'm such a fucking clutz!"
"Well my ass is wet! And Goddamn that was cold! What the fuck was that? What were you drinking?" As she reached behind and dislodged a fragment of ice.
"Aaggh, I can't believe this is happening," Mark lamely cried out. "It was ice. Just water -- the glass just slipped out of my hand! I swear it was an accident! I didn't do it on purpose!" Unable to contain a smirk, Mark had to look away.
"Ya, well fuck that was cold!"
Cringing Mark said, "I know, I know, I'm just really sorry ok? Let me buy you a drink -- what kind of beer is that?"
She had a partially finished beer in her hand and simply turned the label towards Mark. He yelled, "I'll be right back. I'm really sorry."
As he turned around she nudged him in the ribs and screaming in his face said, "It's not that bad! I'm not that wet. It was just such a fucking shock to feel ice cold -
something
- go down the crack of my ass!"
Laughing, she winked as Mark made his way to the bar. A few minutes later, they sat together on the step and clinked drinks as they whooped and danced.
As the Lunachicks said their adieu's and the crowd started thinning out, Mark asked, "What's your name?"
"I'm Kristi," she said, now that they could actually hear what the other was saying, voices dry and raspy. "Nice to meet you
despite
the circumstances!"
They both laughed, Mark looking down, kicking at the floor. They headed towards the exit agreeing that the Lunachicks had put on a fantastic show and the crowd, though rowdy had been great.
Once outside Kristi met up with her two sisters. They had gone their separate ways once inside and were now getting in her car. Mark grinned as Kristi headed towards them and said, "So where's the party?" His voice sounded hushed in the cold night air.
Kristi looked at her sisters and paused, "What do you think? Should we bring him home? Seems harmless enough."
With raised eyebrows they glanced at each other and iterated firmly, "Ya well, we're going to bed when we get home so if you two are going to party, take it downstairs! We work in the morning!"
Turning, Kristi extended her index finger, signaling to him, "come here."
The interior of the car filled with laughter and teasing as Kristi explained how they met. In a cacophony of screeches and hysteria, they interrupted each other in their haste to needle him. Mark sheepishly grinning, did his best to defend himself. They were bent on getting a rise out of him and were succeeding, he was blushing like a teenager.
Once home, the sisters said their sincere
goodnights
,
nice meeting you,
platitudes and left. Kristi went to the fridge and asked, "You want something to drink?
Without ice
?" Turning to look at him mischievously.
Accepting a Perrier, Mark cast about the darkened house and noted a glassed in room. Recognizing it for a solarium, he suggested that perhaps they could check it out. Agreeing she stated, "It's my favorite spot to sit and contemplate."
Kristi sat by a window, Mark came to a stop at her side. His foot resting on the corner of the chair, arm across his knee and looking down, his eyes softened. Kristi smiled back, neither of them uncomfortable with the lapse in conversation. Reaching over he gently squeezed her shoulder. Leaning into his hand Kristi invited further contact; as he slowly bent to her lips, they locked eyes.
Kissing is the ultimate ice-breaker. Kissing opens something in you, a doorway to passion. The intimacy of mouth to mouth exploration sends a signal to your knees, causing them to weaken and wobble. Kissing incites your heart to palpitate and your thoughts to dissipate, floating off into the ether where they wait patiently, no longer necessary to the moment. A kiss of passion is unrestrained yet, a synchronized dance, lip to lip, angling to fit together like solving Rubik's cube. Meshed and dovetailed, accentuating the sensuality of the kiss, both participants are guided by the reflection of the other. Kissing is breathing in a person's essence. All nerve endings, poised along the supple and expressive swath of skin above and below the opening to your mouth, lose all fear of what may escape and seek instead to feel their counterpart, to fuse. Kissing sends a cascade of neurons to the epicenter of the brain carrying a simple message:
shut down all thought.
Kissing softens the heart and the ego's axiom to succeed. It encourages flexibility on an emotional level, inviting vulnerability. Kissing is experiencing the "other" as we would kiss ourselves. Inevitably when the spell is broken, from the ether your thoughts sinuously return. Your heart clutches a fraction, sensing the inevitable change, giving you pause to consider the moment you're letting go of. Once your immersion into that space surfaces to become conscious of drawing a breath, the intimacy and magic of kissing surrenders to something else.