Page 56Kiss

For some reason, I wanted to go to the same bar where the 'one who refused me' had been. Maybe because of some odd symmetry in my head, even though I knew it wasn't a very good idea. One of the reasons I tried to find a new place to go every night and not return within a week, was to make anything 'odd' seem random and unconnected. People who'd been 'kissed' by me, shouldn't meet each other and find out who I was.

Of course I was fairly careful with that anyone. I doubted many would remember my kiss as anything special, and would just see it as drinking a little too much. I was supposed to stay a ghost, unreal in this world. Left to their imagination.

The bar was fairly quiet, but open. There weren't too many people in there and the girl I definitely was not looking for, wasn't there. (I was trying really hard to fool myself, it wasn't really working). Fortunately, no one else I'd ever taken, was there either. So I was free to hunt.

Usually in bars I had a tendency to go for girls. Not because I liked them more, but guys were often so annoying when you talked to them. For some reason a lot of them thought themselves so perfect and wonderful if a girl spoke to them first. It was an annoyance I didn't need.

Tonight, however, I wanted to spend the effort in finding a somewhat nicer guy. Or rather, a shyer guy. It was something that felt somehow good to go. I've been very shy myself, especially when it came to seduction and flirting, and giving those shy guys a nice experience, just felt good in many ways.

And I hoped it would give them some confidence.

It didn't really work like that, but it made them at least feel good about themselves for a while. Part of my mind told me that no one would really believe them if they told anyone. Which was a pity.

I had to be careful though. Shy guys in a group were very hard to lure away without getting a lot of attention of the rest of the group. Though a lot of groups liked having at least one of them around to make themselves feel better, they also made it very, very hard on them when they finally did get the courage together to speak to a girl.

So I had to find a guy that was on his own.

And there was one. Not exactly what I wanted, but doable. It was a guy sitting on his own at a table, writing on a little notepad and looking pensive. When I got closer, the words on the page looked like rhymes. Poetry or perhaps lyrics. It made me slightly curious. He also wasn't drinking beer, which was a plus.

"Hello?"

He looked up, slightly surprised. "Oh, hi."

"What are you writing?"

He smiled, a nice smile. "Oh, just some random poetry. It helps me relax when my mind is chaotic."

"May I read it?"

"Almost, let me finish it."

I sat down next to him in silent agreement and waited patiently for him to finish it. An odd image came to mind. I felt like a panthress watching a bird it wanted to eat, do a tap-dance. It was still going to eat it after the dance was over, but for now, the bird was safe.

Politely, I didn't look at the paper until he laid his pen down and showed it to me. The writing wasn't perfect but legible. Some words crossed through and replaced by others written above it. But the poem was nice. It flowed well and was easily read aloud silently.

'Flames from the furnace, wild in my head
Burning below, cool fire instead'

'Touches that linger, words that confuse
Embraces surrounding, any excuse'

'Chaos in spirals, thoughts underway
Streaks of intentions, no disarray'

'Tune to the madness, shapes for the mind
Fierce revolution, pay back in kind'

I smiled. "It's good."

He shrugged. "Keep it. It's just a reflection of the moment for me."

And that was my cue. "Then let me thank you."

I moved for his cheek, as if to kiss it, but then moved down to kiss his neck. I felt the surprise going through his body, even more so when he felt my teeth and then a gentle bliss. His blood was a little weird. Off in some undefinable way. Perhaps he'd been smoking something. Regardless, I took my time with his blood. It was really nice after all the little things tonight and I savoured it.

While I drank I felt words going through me that reflected and reverbed through the whole of my being. It was like his poetry was trying to make sense of this moment by putting words together and taking them apart again. A very interesting mind and sensation.

Slightly salty.

When I released him, he looked at me for a moment as if nothing happened and snapped back to reality. He tore the page with the poem from his notepad and gave it to me without a word. When I took it, he just went back to writing as if he'd already forgotten about me. But I glanced over to what he was writing and smiled at the first sentence.

'Was she a ghost, or just a dream?'

I left him in gentle peace when I suddenly had the feeling someone was watching me. It was slightly disconcerting. I looked around but saw nothing out of the ordinary and the feeling passed immediately as well. Slightly confused and putting the paper in my backpack, I went outside, to the fresh air.

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