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AS IF WE CARED

Dreamed 1984/9/17 by Chris Wayan

Two voyeurs watch the neighbors, get turned on, and start making love while still spying.


I wake in the night to find our new neighbors are having a quarrel. Not loud, but I can see it all--my bedroom window faces their kitchen. My lights are out; I watch in the dark. One woman's in profile, the other full-face but half-hidden by the nearer one, so together they form a weird composite face like some symbolic shot in a Bergman film. And I do think they're lovers, not just housemates--the silent scene is charged with erotic tension, making the bare leg of one girl and the neck and shoulders of the other's half-open bathrobe seem fiercely seductive. To me, at least. I feel turned on.

Then I hear a rustle behind me. A girl I don't know has crept into my room and caught me spying on the neighbors. A burglar, judging me? No... her eyes are on the window, staring at the sexy mystery next door, like me. She's as distracted as I am.

On impulse I pull her over on top of me and we kiss and squirm against each other. I unbutton our clothes. She seems clumsy, her hands clutch and shake with excitement when I stroke or kiss them, but she lets me slowly strip her, keeping her eyes on that couple and her skin on me.

I whisper "Let's do it as if..." and I'm about to say "...we're THEM", but instead, to my surprise, just as I slip into her, I say "...we're MARRIED."

She whispers back, thrusting her hips back, forcing my cock deep into her, "...or CARE."

As if we care. At this sudden acknowledgment that we're total strangers with NO relationship, avoiding all the drama the couple next door are going through, she's suddenly, wildly turned on, and in seconds I feel her coming from sheer excitement. She tightens around me in that unmistakable rhythmic pulse, and my own body picks it up, and that wonderful tickling in my cock crests like a wave of electric shock and I come inside her too, inside this stranger. This stranger who I share only one thing with--we're both turned on by the same thing.

No, not voyeurism. That's incidental.

Turned on by LACK of commitment.

NOTES NEXT MORNING

So let the neighbors play Bergmanesque games of depth in merciless light, while my stranger and I roll and revel in dark freedom. For freedom's what excites me--not love. Not yet, at least.

Not while love means guilty dramas about commitment.



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