The Silhouette of Crime

9 PM, Monday.

The curtains are not drawn yet. The light in her room is mirroring through her window. Unknown to her, I am, just another one of her fans, sighing as I look over my veranda, trying to get a sneak peek into her life. I had just rented the room for a night and what luck! I had spotted her right away. Even under the magenta colored scarf and Ray Ban shades, I could recognize her. However, she had been too keen to disappear into the crowd of nomads such as myself and hence, here I was, standing at a distance, casually eyeing her silhouette forming against the french windows.

11 PM, Monday.

Lighting a cigarette, I curse. It had become a habit now, something I had stopped trying to get rid of. I step outside and let some fresh air inside my lungs, when i suddenly catch a movement from the far-left corner of my eye. Turning my head ever so slightly in the direction, I see her. Unbuttoning her dress, I marvel as the flick of her hands as she lazily throws her dress away. Her hair is spread all over her back, the curve of her breasts slightly upturned. My eyes, taking in her voluptuous waist, my mouth forms an O as i see her playing her fingers slowly from her cleavage to her naval, pausing only for a second at the junction of her bralette. I inched a step closer, masked into the shadows cast by the silence of the night. My idol of worship raises her head and opens her arms to welcome the presence of another human flesh. My heart almost sank when I see their naked bodies embracing, his hands strolling over her waist and her fingers tracing his back. Of course she would have a lover! Why else would she come into this cheap motel, hidden from the paparazzi.

1 AM, Monday.

I am sitting down on my knees now. I couldn't control the spurt of feelings that followed soon after the sex. I have seen movies, I have had my experiences but nothing could prepare me for what was about to come. Nothing could be compared to the passion reverberating through our bodies and the moans, both heard and unheard. Slowly he unwrapped her from her ruffled lingerie and as she raised her arms to his shoulders, his fingers, tall and lanky, cupped her breasts, sucking slow and easy. That very frame, is now etched in my retina and it wasn't long before i found myself breathing hard. Her fingers pull into his hair as he repeats his actions with the other one. She moans, as his mouth devours and fondles her cups. Pulling her closer, he kisses her. Hard and strong on the lips. She cries out, maybe the pressure was unexpected for her too. His hands, venture further south and, so do mine. She lets out a cry and her back is bent backwards, as his fingers trespass into the uncharted openings. My sighs of pleasure are muffled under her white satin sheets. The sheets wherein they lay engulfed, as he makes love to her.

3 AM, Monday

It was wild. The lust. I now lay lain on the cold floor of my veranda, having experienced such currents of pleasure spiking through my entire frame. The lights went off a while back and all I could hear were the buzzing of crickets. The moonlight shines down at the photographs that I possess. Photographs I had captured, a year ago. Squares containing laughing faces of her. Of me. And us. Crash! I am revived back from my nostalgia, as I hear a sound of glass shattering. My eyes fly open and I almost get up when I hear a scream. I perk up my ears to listen in carefully, nothing gives. They must have been muffled, under the satin sheets. I lie back resting my head or my arm, looking over at the photographs, my lips curving upwards lazily.

5 AM, Monday

It's dawn. The moon wanes out behind the pareidolia of clouds and the hues of light blue spread across the vista. I stifle a yawn as the memories of last night come rushing through. I sit up, wide awake, the feeling of throbbing passion still lingering in my body. Collecting myself, I stand and involuntarily look over at her window. He's there. Standing outside, I can finally have a good look at our lover. Donning a denim trouser, his lanky legs are prepped over the veranda tiles. Bare chested and hair tied in a bun, he looks no less than a Greek god. Suddenly aware of the breath I am holding, I startle and look up. Into his eyes. His deep blue eyes. That are already looking at me.

We meet. Like sand meets the ocean. And a slow smile tugs at my cheeks. I gather my unkempt hair and tie it in a bun, akin to his. Tucking my shirt halfway into my shorts, I light up a cigarette. Looking over at him, I take up the photographs. For each photograph, a match is struck. Emptying the entire box. I let them burn out, the ashes of the memories slowly fading away into nothingness. Gathering my things, I cover my identity under a magenta scarf and a Ray Ban shades, turning around, one last time. He winks at me and jumps down from the first floor, a perfect landing.

He looks up. I look down. And we each nod a subtle nod.

As the sun comes up, I sigh and leave in slow, measured steps. It was indeed, wild. A night of passion. And crime.