Nearly

“We go fuck in a graveyard” he said, tossing the words out as casually as the playing cards.  “If you lose.”  He tightened the dollar between his fingers and breathed in another line.  “I mean.  There has to be some bet here, right?  I’m almost naked.  You’re going to win anyway.  So how about you make this bet, right?  I win, we fuck in a graveyard.”

She took a sip of wine.  “You win meaning what?” she asked.

“If you end up being completely naked, we hop the fence into one of the cemeteries over here – I mean, there are enough of them, right?”

“On all sides,” she said, a smile lifting one corner of her mouth, her head tilted to the left.  “Hand me the dollar.”  She pinched it between her small fingers and moved it gracefully across a glossy book cover that served as a cutting board.  She paused, looked at the board, and went for another line.

“Hey!” he exclaimed.  “One by one!”

“Fuck it,” she said.  “Let’s do it.”

“Wh-what?”  he stammered, confused.

“Let’s go. We’re young and stupid.”  She stood up, put her shirt and pants back on, and went into her room to grab a condom and a blanket.  “Well?” she asked impatiently, putting on her shoes.

He jolted up, hurriedly got dressed, and followed her down the stairs.  Dawn was nigh, and as they walked briskly toward the wrought iron fence surrounding the cemetery to the west, the first suggestion of light appeared in the sky.

He helped her over the fence first – awkwardly, all fumbling limbs, before clambering over himself.  His excitement built as they walked side by side through rows and rows of raised tombs – and then he stopped dead.  “Wait,” he whispered, his voice gravelly and urgent.

Angels, Cemetery, Cross, Sculpture

“What?” she asked, looking back.  He stretched his hand out toward her as if to hold her in place telekinetically.  He floated toward her, sunk his grip into her arm, and pointed a long finger straight ahead.

It took some time and squinting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but she finally saw it.  Two people in front of a grave, chanting.  The body of a chicken lay prostrate in front of them, making its final jerks.  Both wore black against the night; they were so entranced by the ritual that they must not have heard the pair talking.

She took a few steps backward; he followed suit, and without remembering how they’d gotten there, they were back over the wall and at her apartment.  “So, you wanna – you know, go inside and do it?” he said when they arrived.

What had just happened?  She thought.  She hadn’t wanted to fuck him in the first place – only to say she’d fucked someone in a graveyard.  “Nah,” she said, her face lit up by the yolk of the sun.  “I need to sleep it off, and so do you.  See you at our next meeting.”  She turned abruptly and bounded up the stairs, leaving him at the bottom to wander off into the sunrise.

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11 thoughts on “Nearly

  1. I really like this clever story, Jo. I liked your heroine’s voice. Some nice word images and you’re really brought back some memories. The lines and the strip poker, not fucking in a graveyard. And yes, fucking someone not because you really want to, but that you want to say you have done it.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. If I’m being really honest with myself, at least a third of the sex I’ve had was just to be able to say that I’d had sex in x place or with x person! Thank you for the lovely compliment. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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