"James Patrick Kelly - The Propogation of Light in a Vaccuum (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kelly James Patrick)

shoulders and I can see unexpected muscle beneath her pale skin. She can
appear
to be any woman I can imagine. Today she is large. Magnificent. There's a
kind
of music to her voice. When she talks, I hear bells. She's not perfect,
though:
the skin under her jaw is loose, there's a mole on her temple. Clever
touches.
Another time she may be petite. She could have big hips. Long fingers. I
think
the reason she keeps changing is that, like so many women, she has a poor
body
image. She's far too critical of her appearance. But no matter how she looks
she
can't help but become herself.
We make love. That shouldn't surprise you. Sex mostly happens between the
ears,
not between the thighs. Sometimes I lose myself and skip ahead in time to
find
I'm caressing a different body. But today she remains the same; it's what we
both want. I take pleasure from the way her lips part, the bloom on her
cheeks.
At the end a moan catches for a moment in her throat, and then she draws
breath
again.
(And you?)
I can't help but love her. That's the biggest problem with our marriage. I
love
her even though she wants to separate from me -- don't deny it! Go her own
way.
I hold her until the blood stops pounding; she plays with the hair on my
chest.
Finally I kiss her and get up. I'm hungry. There's french toast and orange
juice. As always. Just once I'd like to serve her breakfast in bed but she
doesn't eat. The high price of being imaginary. She watches, though.
Afterwards we visit the fx lounge. She chooses Trunk Bay on St. John: bone
white
Caribbean beach, palms tilting toward water the color of the sky. This is
part
of our imaginary past. Our honeymoon, I suppose. She keeps the temperature
set
at 29° Celsius. Invisible fans waft a breeze laden with her own homemade brew
of
coconut oil, female pheromones and brine. She's convinced that the way to a
man's heart is through his nose. The floor looks just like sand except it
doesn't sift between the toes, more's the pity. We spread blankets and soak
up
UV in the nude. Sometimes I wish she'd program the surround to show other
people
on the beach, but we're alone. Always alone.