Episode
8 - Moon Love
Propping open the screen door, Trace stepped
onto the back walk and breathed in the crisp evening air as
he raised his wine glass to his lips and his eyes to the canopy
of night sky. The clear air permitted the moonlight to illuminate
every corner of the sky. Despite his alcohol haze, Trace was
captivated by its brilliance. Scanning for Orion, he was disoriented
by his absence until he realized it was the wrong season for
the constellation’s appearance. A chill ran through his
body as he sipped his glass empty and turned back towards the
house. He could not decide if the chilly air or the empty glass
was his motivation for heading indoors. Either way, he figured
he would step out later for a cigarette and left the door open.
Entering the kitchen, he refilled his glass
and retrieved a remote control from the counter. Aiming it squarely
at the stereo, he pressed play. Within seconds, Chet Baker’s
trumpet filled the room and clarified the air. Trace stood with
the remote in one hand and a wine glass in the other as he listened.
“Moon Love,” Trace repeated the
song title as he closed his eyes and thought of Élan.
Élan’s fairness encouraged him to conjure an image
of his body suffused with moonlight. Buoyed by the air, the
moonlit figure revolved before him. As Trace extended his hand
to its midsection, the white light rippled away like milk, revealing
the pale white flesh beneath, and as Trace reach for it, the
flesh shattered like porcelain beneath his touch.
Opening his eyes, Trace found himself leaning
backwards and losing balance. Falling against the counter, he
halted his backward movement with his elbows. Righting himself,
he steadied the dribbling wine glass and found himself dropping
the remote, and as it banged on the floor, he reprimanded himself:
“Stop! You’re being a fucking idiot! You’re
tippling over a guy you’ve never had, hardly know, and
will never get. Get a grip, Trace. This ain’t like living
with dementia.”
Emptying his wine with one sip, Trace emptied
the bottle by refilling the glass and collected his cigarettes
and lighter from the counter.
Settling into the threshold of the door, he
placed the wine glass beside him and lit a cigarette, and as
the lighter’s glow faded, he turned his eyes to the canopy
of stars, as Chet released note so slow and long stars burned
out before its finish. The moon had made its crescent pale appearance.
Trace dragged the cigarette and focused on a satellite that
darted toward the moon as he fingered his cock through his pants.
Squeezing his spongy head with his thumb and index finger, he
wondered if he should jerk-off. He pressed the flesh of his
fore finger against the underside of his head and rubbed. His
cock responded with complete rigidity, and he felt the itching
burn of orgasm building in his balls.
Unfastening his pants, he slid his cock out,
wrapped his fingers around his shaft, and fisted himself. Increasing
the friction and rapidity of stroking, he pressed his legs outward
and his head against the doorframe as he focused intently on
the satellite sailing toward the moon.
Trace closed his eyes and found an image of
Élan’s naked body flickering against his eyelids.
He slid into the film and dropped to his knees. Parting his
lips, he slipped them over Élan’s head and looked
upwards. Élan watched him sucking and repeatedly whispered:
“A kiss is enough.” Trace stood to kiss Élan
but found his upward movement thwarted by Élan’s
rapidly lengthening torso. Despite Trace’s best efforts
to kiss, Élan’s whispering lips slipped further
away. Eventually, Élan’s body snaked over and under
Trace’s and curled outward in a crescent shape until Trace
found himself upended. Reaching forward but toppling backward,
Trace reached for Élan’s waist but found the surface
of his skin morphing into the desolate lunar surface. Glancing
over his shoulder, Trace found himself free-falling toward earth.
Jerking awake, Trace was startled to find himself
holding his now flaccid cock in his hand. He tucked it away
as he looked around to assure himself he had been unobserved.
Lighting a cigarette, he scanned the sky for the satellite he
had been following. He could see the moon, but the satellite
was now nowhere to be seen.
Chet Baker released his final note, and the
stereo announced this ending with a loud click. Unsteadily rising
to his feet, Trace dragged his cigarette and fingered the door
prop, just managing to toss his cigarette out the door before
it closed.
Palming the walls for balance, he made his
way to the bedroom. Tossing the bedclothes back and his clothes
from his body, Trace fell onto the bed and somewhere before
reaching the pillow and unconsciousness, he decided he would
seduce Élan yet.
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