| Erotic Home |
Richard Fein They could leave, take the subway home, stain their sheets with sweat, and bother their neighbors with squeaky springs and ecstatic cries behind open windows and swaying shades. But they've gone too far to go all the way home. The red-hot sun will soon kiss and penetrate the ocean. One could almost hear the hissing of this union. There is an all consuming rhythm in this July dusk, as the couple keeps a presto beat. Her bikini top flies off, then the bottom. Midsummer misdemeanors on the sand. In the distance someone, anyone, everyone can see, but the sand-caked pair is beyond caring. Lazy urgent summer eve, a torrid twosome on an evening beach, voyeurs on the boardwalk looking down on them like stars in summer constellations. End of a Summer's Drive Even her sweat could seduce; his hand sweeps across the vinyl seat and he tastes her salty residue on his fingers. Through the windshield, in humid July, he sees her hair, her blouse, her shorts, recede. She turns the corner, gone. He is left only with her impression on the car seat cover. Underneath the foam freed at last from the weight of her butt and bare thighs, slowly rises till the outline fades, and the seat cover returns to the flat and level. One last time his fingers caress the seat searching for a trace of salt to preserve the moment. |
| Richard Fein has been published in many web and print journals. He also has an interest in digital photography. Samples of his photography can be found on pbase.com/bardofbyte. email: Richard Fein |