They’re hot.
Steaming.
He can still taste their last kiss,
still smell her hair
when she had nuzzled into him.
Now,
out in the cool street
she
tugs at his arm.
God,
I want some, she whispers, now.
Not
here, he says.
Yes, here, right here!
No,
in the car.
In
the car
she
starts pulling at him again.
Give
me, she says.
She’s
panting
a
ravenous bird,
her
cavernous mouth,
a
pink flash of tongue.
Windows
steaming up.
She’s
hungry – a wolf –
white
teeth, red claws,
scratching
demanding.
He
goes to kiss her
but
she pushes him off
her craving not for soft love.
She
is hawk, she is animal.
They
pull at their clothes.
He
feels the growing warmth in his thighs
as
he writhes
his
shoulders
then
arms free
from
his jacket.
She’s
in his lap now –
all fingers –
pulling,
tugging,
her
lips are wet,
slippery.
Have
you brought anything? she breathes
Of
course,
Always. Boy scout.
Then
for fuck's sake get it.
He
reaches across her
and
flips open the glove box,
gropes
blindly for
the small plastic packet.
Come
on, she says,
For
fuck's sake, come on!
She's
wild.
He
dances the packet in front of her.
She
grabs it -
Let
me fucking do it,
you fucking tease!
She
takes the corner in her mouth,
teeth
clenched
she
rips the
packet open
and
squeezes
the
glossy
red liquid
all
over
the chips.
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