Pain Exchange

The Marine says he is lonely, and I can clearly see the pain in his eyes.

He was only with two women before marrying his wife. He loved her and their child, and showed them everyday how much he cared. A horrible accident, and now they are dead. The man with the body of a Greek statue (military issue) lies on the sand next to me . . . broken.

It was a chance meeting on a surfboard and now he phones me everyday. He says, “Menen, please come”, and so late at night I do. He is asleep when I arrive, but wakes as I walk through the door. He looks like a little boy (shhhh) only with the body of a man.

I hold him; sometimes he looks like he is going to cry. It’s always the same. He kisses me, and takes me into his mouth. He tries, and I don’t want him to know how bad he is at giving head. I’m not even sure it is a lesson he should learn.

His skin is sensitive, desperate for intimacy. My breath alone makes him quiver; my hands cause him to moan. Then, with a burst of courage (or maybe it is fear) he pulls me in inside of him. He doesn’t know that we should go slowly, and it brings him more hurt than need be. I guess it’s a different kind of pain, and judging from the scars on his body, a kind he understands. A mild discomfort lasting a manageable amount of time.

He is strong, healthy and fit. We make love (shhhh) until our bodies are covered with perspiration. My turn to tremble now as the slightest movement of his hips causes me to explode inside of the latex barrier. Seconds later he releases, and looks me in the eyes the entire time.

In my arms, and sleeping so soundly now. For me the ache returns (it’s been so long since I have laughed). Can he feel my broken heart pressed up against his back?