Free Femme Noir by Clara Nipper Page A

arriving, claiming Max, kissing her and leading her inside. In spite of that painful image, I couldn’t tear myself away. Even if a lover fucked her there on the balcony, I could not leave.
    It was just a random car. I sighed. Max sighed. Then she went inside the house flapping the robe for air and I waited to see where she would turn up. I saw a lamp go on in a huge glass room in the lower right corner of the house. Good God, it was her bedroom. My excitement at seeing this was tempered by anger that everyone else could too. How dare she live this way! Not only no curtains on her bedroom, but also walls of glass on a highly trafficked public street. How could she sleep on a stage? My horror deepened as I realized Max probably would’ve had sex in bed too. Lord have mercy, to be such an exhibitionist. To have all the wild, nasty, acrobatic, jungly, tender, sweet things happen under a microscope. Well, that wouldn’t do. No, it certainly wouldn’t. If Max were mine, those glass walls would have blackout draperies installed first thing. I was so shocked by the idea of dominating, taming, and changing Max that I ignored it completely and instead focused on the moment with her. I panted, trying to get a good breath. My eyes filled with tears and I sneezed, surprised by this occurrence like a horse seeing a snake. I was appalled and fascinated as Max removed her robe, slid into her four-poster canopy bed, arranged herself, and picked up a book and began reading. In the heat of my idiocy, I even strained to see the book title. After a few minutes of nothing else happening, I was a little exhilarated to see that Sloane wasn’t joining her. Where was Sloane? Why wasn’t she drinking her fill from the silken Max fountain? Why was Michelle’s car here? I was confused and even more emboldened to climb the wall and knock on the glass. But I didn’t. Like a vampire, I must be invited inside.
    Finally, the park and the lake were quiet. I broke the spell by shaking my head and doing deep knee bends. While Max still read like a mannequin in a store window, I went for a run around the lake. I didn’t care that I wasn’t dressed for it. I didn’t care that the mugginess was like a smothering sheet wrapping me in a cocoon. Without a cunt or a cigarette for comfort, I needed this. I loved feeling the slap of my feet on the pavement. No matter how hard I pressed, the earth always pressed back, supporting me. I paced myself, breathing slowly and deeply, struggling to acclimate to the syrupy air. I felt strangely at home while running. I loved my strong, lean body and everything it could do so easily.
    I ran hard. I ran until my lungs heaved and my body streamed with sweat as if I had stepped through a waterfall. I ran to outrun my sex, but it kept up. I wished Max could watch me play ball. I sprinted the last hundred yards, collapsing into laughter on the trunk of my car, overcome with my own dementia. I stretched for a while, figuring I had done four miles, four times around the lake, and that was okay. I enjoyed being an athlete. A jock or a hardbody is what others have called me, but I couldn’t bear to describe myself that way. I gasped, trying to catch my breath. My lungs felt tight and gummy and full of paste. My eyes were still weeping and I felt congested and sneezy. I glanced at Max’s bedroom, wishing only to bum a cigarette, but the windows were dark now. It gave me a thrill to think that maybe Max had noticed me and was pressed to the glass in the blackness, watching me lustfully.
    I shook off the silver beads of sweat and pulled roughly at my crotch, deciding I would return to my hotel alone. Max was alone, so I would be. We’d be alone together. I liked that.
    Once in my hotel room, I tore off my clothes and collapsed into bed, asleep even before my skin cooled.

Chapter Ten
     
    For unclear reasons, perhaps best not examined closely, I had decided to follow the Amber lead. I had curiosity and time—two ingredients that