The Poet

I love this time of year.

You can feel that spring is close, but it’s still cold enough for a sweater and the air is heavy, a little misty.

The dogwood trees on campus start to get their early-spring blooms around now.

Every morning when I get to my office in the Lit building, the window is still covered with those tiny little purple flowers.

If it were any other day, I’d probably be walking up the hill to the library right now, maybe stop for a coffee from the cart in the quad and soak up the sun for a few minutes.

Instead, I’m babysitting an award-winning poet.

Being a glorified campus tour guide is something I would normally avoid, but you’re some big-time writer my department invited to come to speak.

My advisor thought it would be good for me to be your escort while you’re here for your reading.

She keeps saying that exposing myself to writers who I wouldn’t normally read might push me through this creative block and help me make some more progress on my already-late manuscript.

So yeah, I was basically strong-armed into dragging you around campus all day, showing you all of the very dull historical plaques and sculptural busts of deans long past.

Honestly, we’ve both been doing a pretty poor job pretending to care today.

I was hoping I might get to chat poetry with you, maybe pick your brain about some industry stuff, but… I don’t know…

You’re so… what’s the word? Stoic?

That’s probably being too kind. Standoffish is more like it.

I think you’ve said… maybe four? Five words to me today?

I kind of hate the stereotype that all writers and artists are just cool and aloof, but god you’re really leaning hard into that whole thing.

“Hey, so we’ve got about half an hour to kill until your reading. Is there anything else you want to see? University art gallery, the library…?”

“Ah, no. No, thank you.”

Okay. What the hell am I supposed to do with this middle-aged famous poet who refuses to take off his sunglasses? Clearly, we both can’t wait for this to be over.

“There’s a couple of other things on the itinerary for tonight, after the reading, aren’t there?”

“Yeah. Post-reading drinks at the Pint House. That’s the bar on campus.”

“The day that never ends…”

“Tell me about it.”

“I… sorry. That wasn’t very appropriate of me, being your university ambassador.”

“No, no, I appreciate the honesty. It’s refreshing, you know. These visiting writer gigs are hell.”

“Really? Seems kind of kush to get flown out, put up in a hotel, read to a bunch of adoring fans.”

“That’s all an illusion. Economy class, a motel by the airport. You know, most of the people in the audience will have never read any of my work, they likely won’t ever. I’m stuck out here instead of, you know, actually writing.”

“So, why’d you come then?”

“I don’t know. For another line on my CV, I suppose. So… you’re a writer too, yes?”

“Yeah. Short-form fiction. Mostly.”

“Mmm. You know, the best advice I can give you is to leave academia as soon as possible. It suffocates creativity.”

“I don’t remember asking for your advice, but thanks. I think.”

“Hey… is there somewhere we can go where I could have a cigarette? I get antsy before readings. It’s just the audience and crowd thing, you know, it’s just a whole thing for me.”

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, I know a place.”

The outdoor balcony on the south side of the library is almost always empty. I think probably because there are no signs or paths leading to it. You would have to know it was there to even stumble upon it.

It overlooks the canyon that the campus was built on top of. As much as I complain about how much time I spend here, there are definitely some good views.

“Ah, this is perfect. A little quiet… finally.”

I watch as you lean forward against the balcony railing and peer down into the brown and green landscape below us.

You’re really not as obnoxious as I thought you were earlier. In fact… you’re… kind of charming.

Or maybe I’m just in a better mood since we both acknowledged our mutual distaste for academia.

There’s a quiet intensity to you that I like. Like your sunglasses are hiding a fire behind your eyes. Or maybe you can’t keep your gaze on any one thing for too long.

I take a moment to really look at you, try to figure out what it is that makes you so intense and yet… magnetic.

Although your hair is still dark, your short beard is streaked with white. You’re tall and lean for a man your age. You’re handsome in a rugged intellectual kind of way.

Ahh… you definitely just caught me staring. And judging by the way your eyes just swept up and down me, I’m guessing you don’t mind.

“You know I’m a lot older than you, right?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious.”

“Ouch. Well, besides that… I’m kind of in a position of power here.”

“Mmm, are you, though? Aren’t I the one that’s been dragging you around all day? Kinda seems like I’m the one in control right now.”

“Sure, I’ll give you that. But I do know some of your professors.”

“So what? Are you going to tell them I wasn’t a committed tour guide for you today?”

“Maybe.”

“Gonna tell them that I’m bad or something?”

“Are you? Bad?”

“I’ll let you decide that.”

You set your lips against mine, firmly. I open my mouth a little wider and our tongues meet.

There’s an urgency in the way you kiss me, almost a roughness to it. Like you might be trying to tame me.

You turn your body towards mine and I feel your hand close in around the small of my back, pulling us both closer together.

This day just suddenly got a lot more interesting.

“Take these off.”

I reach up and gently pull the sunglasses off your face. Finally, I can see your eyes. Brown and earthy.

“What? What are you looking at?”

“You. I thought your eyes would be green.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Your hand hovers at one of the buttons of my shirt. You keep your eyes on mine as you slowly, deftly pop them open.

“You’re very beautiful.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Confidence. Very sexy. What else are you confident about?”

“Hmm. My ability to write.”

“I’d say we have that in common, but… the older you get, the more you realize you don’t know anything.”

“Really? The award-winning poet isn’t confident in his work?”

“You’d be surprised how much success is just good luck.”

I slide my hand inside your coat, settle it on your hip.

I want to be closer to you. And I want to know what it feels like to have your hands on me.

What would it sound like if you said my name while you were fucking me?

A warm buzz is starting up inside my stomach, spreading slowly up and out to my fingers, and down through my legs.

My shirt is hanging open now and I’m suddenly very aware of the cold air against my chest.

“Are we in any danger of… being stumbled upon?”

“Little bit, yeah. Heard, definitely. Seen, maybe not so much. Not a lot of people know about this spot.”

“Mmm, good to know. It’s not as much fun if it isn’t a little dangerous.”

Your fingers are cold as you pull down the edge of my bra. You lean forward and close your mouth around my nipple.

It’s only now that I’m realizing that we are sort of in public. I mean, this little alcove has no windows into the library, but the second-floor balcony directly above us does.

And people definitely use the tables out there to study. It’s a very real possibility that we might be heard.

But… that’s kind of exciting.

“Tell me what you want. Since you’re so confident with your words and all. Let me know.”

“I want you… between my legs.”

“You can do better than that. I know you can. C’mon, I want specifics. I want poetics.”

You press your lips against my neck and suck, gentle at first, then hard.

“Okay, okay… I… I want you to kiss me from here… to here…”

I trace a line with my finger from my neck down to my thighs.

“Mmhmm.”

“I want you to make me as wet as you possibly can. We don’t go any further than that until I’m satisfied.”

Your hands pull at my shirt as you bend down to focus your mouth just above my waist.

“Tell me more.”

You wrap your hands around my thighs and you press your face between my legs. Even through my jeans, I can feel the scratch of your beard against my thighs. I tangle my fingers in your hair, pulling on the short strands as your mouth brushes past my pussy.

“Rub my nipples… until I’m loud enough for us to get caught.”

You rise back up and your thumbs drift over each of my nipples. Soft at first… but rougher with each pass.

“Harder…”

“Can you take it?”

I reach up and press my hand around yours. I use your fingers to squeeze my own nipple, twisting and pulling at it with sharp, sudden plucks.

“I can take a lot more than you think.”

“Oh, can you?”

I roll my hips into yours and… your dick is bulging up against your pants. I rub myself against it and grab onto your waist.

“Take off my pants.”

I reach out and hold onto the balcony railing to keep myself upright. My whole body is buzzing, my legs are barely keeping me standing.

“You… you’re gorgeous. And I’m getting the sense you don’t want me to be gentle.”

Your words send a shock through me. You’re not wrong, but I still want to be the one in control here. I like how willing you are to do what I tell you to.

“Just keep listening. And doing what I tell you.”

“Well, I’m waiting for more instructions.”

“Run your fingers between my legs… slowly. Make me wait for it.”

“Oh… fuck. Two fingers… press two up against my clit…”

“Like that?”

“Yeah, yeah, just like that. Put them in me…”

“Oh, fuck, look at you… Oh my god, you’re so wet.”

I grind against your hand, rolling my hips and fucking myself on your fingers. You plunge them deeper.

I know we’re being loud enough that we can be heard. I know I should try to be quiet… but I don’t really want to. The idea that someone else could hear this is just making me wetter.

“My dick is throbbing… I can’t… I can’t wait much longer…”

“Was that your version of begging? I like that. Take out your dick.”

I wrap my hand around your shaft and draw my hand slowly up and down the length.

“Fuck.”

“I want to feel you… as deep as you can get… okay? I want every stroke to make me feral…”

“Oh, god, I can do that.”

I turn around and push my ass back into you. I can’t take this any longer. I have to have this.

“Oh, you want it really fucking bad, don’t you? Don’t you?”

“Yeah…”

“Yeah, you sound desperate… desperate and ready for me…”

“Condom?”

“Vasectomy.”

“So what are you waiting for, then?”

You push the tip of your cock up against my entrance, holding it there, teasing me.

“C’mon, c’mon, please… no more teasing. Fuck me, please…”

“Don’t be impatient.”

Your dick is thick and hard and I feel you spreading my walls apart.

You pump forward, harder, and for a second my whole body is shocked with pleasure.

Every thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through me. I can feel my whole body loosening as your dick fills me up and pushes further and further inside.

“Oh, you’re fucking deep—so fucking deep—harder, harder…”

“Oh, god, yeah. This is what you want. Yeah? You want to go feral on my cock?”

Your body weight against me is heavy and I can feel the railing of the balcony imprinting its pattern into my skin.

You lift your hand and wrap it loosely around the front of my neck. Your fingers hold my jaw and your wrist presses into my collarbone.

“F-fuck, yeah, fuck me back, yeah, yeah…”

My knuckles are white where I’m gripping the railing. I can barely form a cohesive thought. All I know is the feeling of your dick completely filling me up.

“Touch yourself, touch your clit…”

I slide my hand down between my legs and lay my fingers against my clit. I’m so fucking sensitive. Even the lightest touch feels unbearable.

I’m getting close. Pressure is building and I can’t take much more…

I don’t turn around just yet. I keep looking down into the canyon, trying to wrap my head around what just happened.

“Hey.”

You lay a hand on my shoulder and slowly turn me around.

“You know, I broke a lot of my rules for you.”

“What rules?”

“Don’t hook up with other writers. And… don’t fuck on campus.”

“Right. Well, I’m flattered you broke your own rules for me.”

“We should probably head over to the auditorium.”

“Oh. Yeah, right.”

“I’m not so bad of a tour guide after all, huh?”

“No, you’re not. Plus, the night’s still young. I’m sure there’s a lot more you could show me…”