The Descent

It wasn’t entirely clear to her whether or not he was being sarcastic. He told her that he didn’t care much for books and smarts, he liked skiing better. Mountain bikes, hang gliding, rafting and cliff jumping were his preferred weekend activities. She couldn’t remember the last time she was on a mountain, but it didn’t much matter. They were dancing tight and close and she could smell tequila on his breath. He smelled like sweat and dew. Her thin body was folded against his, delicate bird arms around his shoulders. She would go home with him.
The small apartment that he called home was sparsely decorated. There was a framed picture of a crane on the brick wall. She took note of several pairs of hiking boots propped up in the corner, their musty scent lingered in the stale air of his room. His bed was lofted high by the window but she couldn’t see a latter.
“Would you like to sleep here?” he asked. He looked at her genuinely. His eyes looked brown and innocent despite his finger tips teasing her hip bones. “How do I get up?” her face tilted towards the loft and the steep brick walls on either side of it.
“Climb.” He said. The man she met at the party braced his legs against the wooden supports of the loft and pulled his body up with his strong arms. Without any strain or effort, he slid on top of the bed and looked down at her, waiting for her to join him.
She wasn’t sure where to put her feet. Her body was many things, but it was not strong. After gripping the wooden supports of the bed with her pale fingers, she was able to swing her leg up and onto the bed. Half of her body hung down, but he rolled her onto the mattress and kissed her. She tasted the tequila and the sweat. Rolling on top of him, she held his arms down at his sides and wrapped her legs around his body. The creaking of the loft blended into the sounds of the street below outside the window.


“Did you come?” her voice sounded misplaced in the stale dark of his room. The air was humid with sweat which seemed to cling to the bricks and the dirty sheets.
“yea, you?” He was half asleep and didn’t hear her answer before he collapsed on his side, his copper arm around her waist which seemed to glow in the darkness.
“I was just wondering because…it feels like I’m leaking.” There was a sticky feeling between her legs. She sensed a growing pool under her thigh that soaked slowly into the sheets. She rolled towards the wall and shut her eyes.
His favorite time to make love was the dawn. It was gray in his room and he released his curious fingers across his bed, searching for his lover’s soft skin. As his hand touched the brick of the opposite wall, he opened his eyes to confirm her absence. She had gone during the night. He fell back asleep, half hung-over and half insulted.
In the morning he found no trace of the woman he picked up at the bar. It didn’t much matter, there would be others after her and there had certainly been former lovers. She had taken everything with her, but he noticed something odd. His hiking boots were missing, the old ones he had taken to the tetons. In their place, braced up against the steep brick wall was a pair of green flats. They stood tall and proud, that pair of ladies’ shoes. He wondered what he would do without his boots.