I was battered and exhausted, shaking and exhilarated, restless and horny, all the way from the Blast Chamber back home thirty miles away. Simon had booked the cab an hour before we were to leave and when it arrived the crowd was beginning to disperse. We saw Lewis’ skulking figure in our peripheral a few times, but by three o’clock in the morning he had either stopped looking at us, or had left, there was no further encounter before we left.
The air outside was cold, but gorgeously so. The breeze tenderly licked against our salty sweat sodden skin, the temperature held a cold hand to our burning bodies as we walked hand in hand towards the taxi. I was wearing Simon’s shirt over my soaked top to guard me against the worst of the elements. Simon held the door open to the warm taxi for me and in I climbed, cocooned and protected its warmth and the fresh scent of a pine tree air-freshener. Simon clambered in, wavering tipsily, after me and sat down opening his arms to invite me in for a warm embrace. I can’t remember the drivers face, but his voice was deep and Scottish, the sort of voice that grates against the inside of your ears it was so guttural. Simon kissed my forehead after he gave the driver his instructions and the world started moving outside the windows of the warm shell. For a few minutes we stayed quiet. Secure in the company of each other, warm against each other as I leant across his chest; heart beating like strong bongos beneath his robust bones. He slipped out his phone and headphones and for ten minutes or so we listened to some music.
I learnt a lot about him in taxi just by listening. I found his taste reached from the obvious gut splitting metal, and slipped into melodic country music, pop music, and a lot of melodic and emotional acoustic songs that were so far a cry from the demonic monstrosities that had my blood pumping hours earlier. His music was deep, and mournful, and longing, and heartening. Words like poetry bled through the music and seeped into my heart, clutching at every emotion possible. I realised that Simon was incredibly deep.
“Simon?” I pulled the earphone out and looked up at him.
“Hey you.” He smiled down at me and kissed my forehead.
“Where are you staying tonight?” I kissed his neck in response.
“Where would you like me to stay? I thought I might have pretty much fucked up when I had my encounter with Lewis this evening.” His hand stroked my cheek softly producing a soft murmur from somewhere in my throat. I sat up and looked at him directly in his eyes, those deep green wells of strength and pain that I had seen change so many times over the past few weeks.
“Your encounter with Lewis showed me you had strength, courage, and above all things judgment. It could have been so much worse; you didn’t hit him, or hurt him, or lower yourself in anyway. You were angry, but you controlled your anger and continued to make me a very happy woman.” I grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles.
“You had fun tonight huh.” It was a statement and not a question; he was saluting the obvious smile upon my face, and the yearning look in my eyes.
“I did, and I don’t want to wake up in the morning feeling that the night was incomplete.” I felt silly, but I had listened to Simon’s music and realised that he responds to depth, emotion, and honesty. In the pine-smelling cab I was opening my world up, and trying something new. I was being deep, and honest, and falling in love.
“Don’t say that, if you put like that I just may not ever leave.” A chuckle, a beautifully glorious chuckle.
“That’s fine as long as you do the dishes and let me watch my soaps.”
“Do I get match of the day, and Criminal Minds?”
“Only if you are a good boy.”
“That’s a shame.” We both sniggered childishly and I curled back up into his arms and listened to his music safe in my own little world, ignoring the bumps of the road, the swooshing of the traffic, and the hammering of my own heart reverberating in my head. I dozed sporadically and before I knew it the taxi was parked outside my house. I was home, and Simon exited the cab to allow me out before following behind me. I remember thinking as I opened the door to my warm home that I was opening the door to the rest of my life. I was allowing this man to stay with me, to lay with me, and to be with me. In many ways this was very true. I look back and realise that I couldn’t regret a moment of that night, sex doesn’t have to be a squishy thing. It can be an act performed between two people that want to express something that they are too afraid to say. Sex can be the beginning of the rest of your life.