Never know
how much I love you
Never know how much I care
When you put
your arms around me
I give you fever that's so hard to bare
You
give me fever
When you kiss me
Fever when you hold me
tight
Fever
In the morning
Fever all through the
night
(…)
You give me fever
When you kiss me
Fever
when you hold me tight
Fever
In the morning
Fever all
through the night
(…)
But what a lovely way to burn
*********************************************************************************
I know I'm dreaming because around me everything is pasty. The colours only run the spectre from black to white with all the greys in between. This is a recurrent dream so I go through the motions. I light a long slim cigarette assembled on a long black cigarette holder. The first flash of light is the embers if my cigarette. I sit at my customary table in the darkest corner of the dingiest blues joint in DC. The long black silk gloves that reach just over my elbow shine their pasty black in the sparse low hanging light. I pull another drag on my cigarette. The smoke fills my lungs and relaxes me.
He'll be here tonight. He's always here. The man with warm brown eyes and the holstered gun on his left hand side and the badge hanging like a talisman against evil in his shirt pocket. There is kindness when he smiles at me. But that's not all there is. He can't take his eyes away from me, from my cleavage. Men are easy to play, easy marks all of them. Specially the ones that come to places like this. Not this guy. He's different. He actually listens when I sing. He's polite and he tips well. I see him come in. He knows I'm sitting here, but he takes is usual place- to the left of the stage, first row table. He signals for the bartender. Whiskey- straight. None of that fancy on the rocks stuff. I tip back my glass of bourbon that he'll pick up the tab for, keeping my eyes on him. He smiles. We've been at this dance for the longest time. He knows I want him. But he keeps his distance. Told me once people he's close to tend to die. So he's trying to protect me. Go figure!
The sleazy owner of this sleazy joint walks on stage and announces me: Give it up, Ladies and Gentlemen for the lovely Roxie! No one cares. No one comes here for my vocal talents. Except perhaps him. There's applause from or two people but the chatting, the smoking and the drinking continue. I set up from my table, fix my hair one last time and walk onto the stage. The owner walks out not without slapping my ass in what, I'm sure, he considers a playful manner. No matter, I'll get him later for this. No one touches me like this and lives to tell the tale.
The band- if you can call a drunk piano man and a moody saxophone player a band- hit the first notes of Fever. I look at Special Agent Sugar dead in the eyes and run my hands down the length of my torso and hips to smooth my blood red floor length dress. I sing looking him in the eyes. I want him to know I'm singing for him, that I want him.
Never know how much I love you
Never know how much I care
When
you put your arms around me
I give you fever that's so hard to
bare
I know what he sees when he looks at me: the innocent blue eyes, the red lipstick like a mark of sin, the red dress, a sign of doom. But mostly, he sees the real me. The one that had no choice but to be here.
You give me fever
When you kiss me
Fever when you hold me
tight
I know he wants me. I know his hands hitch to touch me, to make me his. I know he fights it. But in this place full of people, he's the one who really sees me- not just the gimmicks and the dress. He knows me.
******
I know this is a dream. Why else would I be in a bad B movie from the 40s? That's why I do not resist. I take the microphone and walk towards him
Fever
I'm a fire
Fever yeah I burn for you
I lean towards him and I kiss him. I've been wanting to kiss him for a life time. I don't care if others think it's an act. He knows it's not. His lips are warm and soft. There is a slight taste of whiskey but the burning is all him, the sudden heat between my legs is all his doing. He pushes me gently to the side, finishes his drink like salvation is at the end of the glass and tells me Hello, Toots. Been wanting you for such a long time. It surprises me because I've standing just here, wanting him. He looks deep inside my eyes and the whole room fades into nothingness. A spot light clicks on and silences the background chatter. We are bathed by the intense and direct light. Nothing else exists in the world but us. He puts his hands on my waist and lifts me to sit on the pasty clothed table. He moves into me, holding me in place by my hips and crushes his lips against mine. There is such sweetness in the kiss. I've always known this would be how Special Agent Sugar would kiss. His hands take time in getting to know my body. But a hand pulls me way violently from him. I'm tossed unceremoniously on the floor. I can't see who it is, no matter how many times I have this dream. The spotlight blinds me. But Booth is already on his feet and he makes a fist and lunges forward hitting whoever it was squarely in the face. A body tumbles heavily on the floor, melting into the shadows. He stretches his hand to help me up. Are you Ok, Toots? I tell him that I've been better. He pulls me into his strong arms and carries me out of that joint into the fresh night air.
I'm cold outside. There's a heavy fog in the air. He covers my shoulders with his mac, still warm from his body. That dress sure doesn't cover much, Toots! I smile at him, thankful. We look ahead down the street, unsure what to do. The dark is broken only by sparsely placed street lamps that shed little pools of yellow light. I hook my arm in his.
"My place is just around the corner" So he puts his hand on the small of my back and walks me to my grubby old door. He kisses my forehead goodnight but I'll be damned if this is how it's ending tonight. I shift slightly and press my lips against his. Toots, we shouldn't. He tries to break the kiss, but this time, I won't let him. I'm only a little thing next to him, but he lets me press him against the wall. I ran my hands down his body, so firm and warm under the shirt. It just makes me want him that much more. He could have pushed me away at any moment. I'm strong and I can stand my own ground but I'm no threat to him. I get closer and closer and I whisper in his ear.
"I want you tonight." His mac slides to the floor of my staircase. His hands move into my shoulders and his fingers caress my skin. You don't understand… what if I hurt you? What if you get hurt because of me? I'm not good for you… My heart tightens when he says that. If only he knew how many creeps had their dirty hands all over me, how many have hurt me. I'm stronger than he thinks. Whatever he thinks can happen to me, I've had worse. For him, I'll deal with it. But for now, I just want to feel him on me. I want him to push away the loneliness. I need his warmth to fell alive again. I think there may be tears in my eyes, because when I ask him to love me, he gives up the struggle. He pushes me against the wall, pressing me there with his body alive with desire. His hands are feverishly roaming up and down my body like he's on recognisance mission. I want to do the same, but I know that he needs this now, he needs to control the situation. He pulls my dress up and his hands dive inside me without any warning. It shakes me to the core. My breath hitches with the need to touch him, to map him out.
What a sight we must be, in a dingy and dark corridor illuminated with the borrowed light from the street. I sigh his name Booth. He pulls me up against the wall. I hold on to him. I'm sinking into him. My underwear gives way to his expert fingers and he pushes himself into me. God, I've waited for this since the first time he walked into that cursed place. He stays still for a little while. I know he's giving me time to accommodate him and I'm thankful for the tenderness of the gesture. So many would just plunge in and do their thing. I run my hand through his hair, his 5 o'clock beard and kiss him again and again. It seems I can't get enough of him. He puts his hand under my ass to push me up and rocks back and forth inside me. My blood boils in the heat of his touch and I demand more and more and more. Temperance he whispers. He knows my real name. It drives me over the edge unexpectedly. The world snaps back into Technicolor with that rush of blood through my whole body. It makes me want to cry. It was never this good with anyone else. He holds my face in his hand and looks into my eyes. He kisses me again and again. He pushes into me twice more. He hides his face in my neck when I feel him coming. Oh God! I need to hold on to him. I run my hands through his back with despair because I don't ever want to let him go, I don't ever want another feeling in my skin that it's not him.
************
It's a recurrent dream, but every time the burning feels brand new.
And every morning after I need to train myself not to act on that
residual fever, not to sink into his arms. To stay aloof and
indifferent. To stay, for his sake, unreachable.
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