by Nina Rota
Today we have a special treat. Here is the YouTube video Nina Rota created for Words in Place‘s “Journey to Planet Write!”
Excerpt from THE SHADOW TEMPLE
something outside intrudes. rolling sound and flashing light arrive together soaking a pair of thin curtains. streetlight and electric hum. a second layer of thick curtain reduces the constant sound of tires cornering to a crackly hush, like walking on gravel in the countryside. streaking headlights, now muted, crawl slowly across the room.
inside, one cone of light from a swivel wall sconce. i barely see his dark eyes. sitting on the bed, i take his slender hips and pull him to me, between my open legs. i bury my head in his middle and wrap myself tightly around him, taking full possession. he surrenders.
my hand trails across his buttock and down the back of his thigh. my shoulders lift and my middle expands. reaching for a breath that was easy moments ago.
i undo his low hanging pants and rub my face across his belly, his soft skin. i move down and reach for him, then take him into my mouth. building fire with each stroke, i am completely sated till the next level of desire. he stays hard, pliable.
i stand up and move behind him, i reach around him. my hand still holds him. i push my face into his long hair and lean in. push into him. my entire body lights up. my arms are weightless, lifted. every cell rises, lighter than itself, and separates, till i am totally transparent. thoughtless. unaware except for his body. ecstatic.
slowly, my heartbeat grows louder. feelings rush back in, pleasure, longing. i untangle myself and move him to the bed, on his stomach. take off my pants and crawl over his back. slide a pillow under his belly, and enter him. my cheek in the curve of his neck, i spread my legs and go deeper. sink into him. i slide my arms under his shoulders, glue myself to his body, and thrust.
my core muscles pull in and up, arching my back, pulling my head down. my forehead digs into his spine as breath sharpens and turns in on itself. shoulders roll forward and constrict my chest further. thighs grab, every nerve online, till i reach the edge and, finally, lift off. flying on uncontrollable pulses passing through me nonstop. release and escape.
Note on Personals Wall in The Shadow Temple
fag identified dyke looking for someone to play out a scene between an older man and a much younger man,
please find me if interested, Nina
Andrew and I crossed paths on our way to The Shadow Temple. This was our second try at doing the scene. Andrew missed the first one choosing to take a workshop instead. Now we had less than an hour before the closing ceremony began. We exchanged embarrassed smiles.
Dust kicked up over the back of my sandals and bugs crawled everywhere. Andrew walked ahead moving effortlessly in his small dancer’s body.
We opened the screen door and walked into the living room. It was full of mismatched chairs and a few sofas. There was a ratty shag carpet in the middle of the room. Andrew looked around then looked shyly at me, “Let’s go upstairs.”
The upstairs room was empty except for three equally spaced beds. It was dead quiet in a way that was almost loud. I wanted to drown the quiet with music, but there wasn’t any. Bright sunlight pierced the room from windows at each end. Outside, sparse New Mexico ranch land stretched out until interrupted by mountains in the distance. I couldn’t stand it. I had to close the walls and bring in some night. “I need to shut the blinds.”
“Okay,” Andrew said with a slight question mark. It felt like early evening in the shadow of the blinds. In the close darkness of my fantasy, I was protected by traffic noise and thick curtains. Here, I was exposed.
Andrew walked over to the center bed and climbed up until he was kneeling in the middle of the bed, facing away from me. As I walked towards him, I stumbled over my sandals. I sat down on the edge of the bed and removed them.
I turned and watched him. His breathing was even but very deep, his body still. I was jumpy and chaotic. Cells pinged off the inner walls of my body and smashed into each other nonstop. I dropped my head into my hands and looked at my naked feet. You’re the one who set this scene up. You wanted to seduce a younger man. Now do something! I lifted my shoulders and took a deep breath, then turned around. I crawled up behind him and opened my knees until my chest was just a few inches from his back. “May I touch you?”
He lifted his chin slightly in assent. I placed a shaky hand on the middle of his back. I moved it along his spine up to the nape of his neck. “Your hair is so beautiful.” I brushed my hand up the back of his head, lifting the short blonde hairs, feeling every bone and bump. His head moved forward and away slowly, passively.
When I reached the crown of his head, I held my hand there to calm myself. His head felt so small. We’d started to breathe together.
I moved my other arm around his body and stroked his cheek with the back of my hand. “Your skin is soft, smooth. May I hold you?” His body moved up and back. I took that as a yes and moved forward putting both arms around his chest. My thighs opened further and hugged the flesh at his hips.
In my fantasy I always felt raw sexual desire, I could do whatever I wanted with him. He was anonymous. Now there was a breathing body next to mine, I found myself asking permission for the smallest move.
A loud crashing sound startled me and made him jump. He looked in the direction of the noise then turned to me and lowered his head, smiling demurely. “Maybe someone is spying on us.”
A cascade of shame lit my face and burned down the front of my chest. Was a disapproving stranger looking on? Shame gave way to a flush of warmth that confused me. The possibility of prying eyes was turning me on. I smiled to myself. Instead of paralyzing me, my deepest fears were now feeding my desire. Finally, I was beginning to settle into my body. I could continue. “Probably a branch falling off a dead tree.”
I laid my head on Andrew’s shoulder and breathed out through pursed lips. He turned his head towards mine, so I took the opportunity to put my hands on his hips and move him around.
Now he was facing me, and I placed both hands on his white t-shirt. As I ran them across his chest, his body moved into me. I continued down to his belly and across the fly on his jeans. He flinched and pulled his stomach in. His breath shortened.
He was still kneeling and his hands were resting on his legs. I separated my hands and pulled them across his thighs, brushing the top ofhis hands. His jeans were rough and patchy with tears above the knees. I wrapped my hands around his legs and squeezed the exposed skin. My whole body tightened and the fire started up again. I had to open my eyes to gather my breath.
His body tightened too and I felt bad about being rough. I took one of his hands in mine and kissed his palm. Then I pulled him down by his forearms until his head reached my lap.
I leaned forward and covered his body with mine, my arms draped over his lower torso. I reached down and lifted the bottom of his shirt. He shifted slightly, then pulled his hands back to his side and underneath him. His breath shortened further as I moved my fingers across the bony skin on the small of his back, and down to his buttocks. Then inside his jeans.
I heard him make a low humming noise, but as it got louder I realized I was hearing someone blow a conch horn. The closing ceremony was beginning. Andrew sat up quickly, almost hitting my chin with the crown of his head. “We’d better go,” he said, and jumped off the bed.
“Oh. Okay. I’ll be along soon.”
I walked to the window and opened the slats to horizontal. More sound outside – voices of campers on their way to the closing ceremony. I strapped on my sandals and walked downstairs.
In the living room, one wall was covered with cork board and my note was pinned there. I took it down and looked at it. I put the note in my pocket and walked out of The Shadow Temple.
Nina Rota is a writer and filmmaker. Her writing can be found in Witness Magazine, Red Fez, and Diverse Voices Quarterly, among others. Her short films have appeared in Getty Museum’s Pacific Standard Time project and Anthology Film Archives. She is currently working on a book of essays titled Walls Crumble Before Me. You can find her at Facebook.com/ninarota and ninarota.com.