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This Lamp, this World

February 1, 2016 Leave a comment Go to comments
Sultry Stories by Cindy Cones

Sultry Stories by Cindy Cones

The stories of Cindy Cones are recommended for individuals over 18 years of age.

This lamp, this world.

You remember when we bought this lamp, baby? You and me- it was supposed to last forever, right? “This is a good sturdy lamp,” the salesman said. I looked past him– right at you, remember? You pursed your lips, ran your hand through your hair. “We’ll take it,” you said. “I’ll wrap it for you,” the salesman said.

“There’s no need.”

The salesman was surprised but neither one of us was looking at him, right? You were blinking quickly but your gaze was black and direct and boring into me.

“I need some men’s products. You got any men’s products around here?” you asked.

“Sure,” the salesman said. He pointed down the street. “Go down a block or so. Must be four or five places. You can’t miss ’em.” He handed you the lamp then. You took it.

We spent awhile in the store. You got what we needed and more besides. Couple of auto-jiggers, a bullfight poster, three handguns, a lighter with your name engraved on it. And some hardware. Hardware to hang our lamp.

We got home. You found a step stool, remember that? A hammer, some of that hardware. And then you found something else.

My lips.

We kissed passionately. It seemed to me that all the loneliness and craving of my whole life was satisfied in that instant. And yet, I was almost frightened by the web of coincidences that had woven our lives together. What if even a single strand had broken? What if I had not been sent from the High Hills Area to the Snowy Lake Area? What if you had not been working in the hard toy department of that store I had wandered into? What if…what if…

You shoved me erotically onto a sofa. “When I kiss you, I see a flare of saffron in the sky,” you said. Remember that? “The white-hot heat,” I said.

Then, it was just you and me.

And then it wasn’t. It was just the lamp. The room was empty and forlorn. The walls were peeling. And I found your letter.

“Had to go out for more guns. Be back,” you wrote.

That was five months ago.

And now…it’s just this lamp…and me…and this world.

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