It’s creamy white now, she said as she stopped
pouring the ouzo over the ice in the glass.
Wow! I never knew this could be. It’s like
the liquor is schizophrenic, one way warm,
another way cold. She laughed – as did he.
She leaned toward him, kissed him full on the lips.
Too bad Kate’s not here, she gushed. She’d love this!
Here he was with Esther, dear Kate’s good friend.
Classmates, so very different – in looks,
basic mood, way of dressing – but alike
in being open and affectionate.
Yes. Yes, here he was. Now he’d had them both
over for dinner, cooked them his special
spaghetti with clams oreganata.
(When he’d touched Kate passionately, she said,
No! I love you, but not that way. For me
you’re like an older brother. So no, not this.
He respected her, how she felt, so he damped down
his ardor, played the role she needed him to play.
In his deepest heart he longed to be her lover.
Years later and married to others, they lost touch.)
After their dinner he took a shower
to get ready for work. On the couch lay Esther
waiting, naked without his knowing . The ouzo, the clams,
who knows, had made her horny. Wrapped in a towel
he came from the hall, saw her lying there
voluptuously. Just think of me as dessert, she said.
Her skin was creamy white like the ouzo on ice.
* * *
(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2012