the insolence of abstinence, part trois

the small blue vw purred to life in the parking lot, and the three of them sped off into the night with a bottle of whiskey, cranberry juice, and a very expensive guitar. it would prove to be a costly night on many levels.

the girls sat in front while the pirate occupied the backseat next to his precious guitar. she felt a probing secretive hand moving between the console and front seat. in her mind, she knew it was a dangerous situation, but she couldn't help herself. all the words in the world couldn't justify the betrayal of her friend, and yet her lust consumed her. his fingers secretly twined in hers as her friend drove on toward her house. a small twist of a hand and he had replaced her silver turquoise ring with his skull ring. sly move, she thought. the ring he took had been her grandmother's ring and there was no way she'd let it out of her possession. not for long, anyways. as long as long as we exchange rings, we'll see one another again, they thought. and next time it will be alone.

the car slowed and she pulled her hand away, feeling the warmth recede as they parted. he handed her the goodies and grabbed his guitar as they made their way up to the house. her footsteps slowed as she took in the clear desert sky. oh, you guys, look. the three then stopped and turned skyward. a slight glow from the stars cast shadows outside. i've never seen so many stars, she said. years of living under the marine layer had clouded her. years of being single might have clouded her even more. she felt his eyes on her back as they walked into the house and she headed straight for the kitchen. him music is amazing, her friend said. her guilt battled her self righteousness. as if on cue, he magically produced a cd of his latest work. happy birthday, he said quietly. she took it from his hand, well aware of her friend's eyes burning into her skull. fuck.

i'm gonna make some bloody pirates, who wants one? she asked gaily. at this juncture it was redundant. three strong cocktails appeared swiftly, and they sat to watch his performance. not knowing what to expect, she was immediately impressed with his talent. this wasn't some amateur wannabe. this was infact, a true flamenco artist celebrity. he looked at her quickly before concentrating on the fluid extraction of sound coming from his coupling with the guitar. the women held their breath and tried to remain strong. both wanted him in the worst way. to complicate things further, the women had been lovers once in a drunken rendezvous years before. the tiny room was empty but for a table and three chairs. how appropriate, she thought. he had one under his foot as he played, and she watched his body arch and move with each tone, each stroke. the guitar had becme a woman. it had become her. it had embodied her friend. it encompassed all of making love through music. damn, he was good. the icecubes in her glass danced in the candlelight, making soft amber reflections and she thought to herself, i am in a dream.

the serenade dimmed and finished after a hour or so, and suddenly the room shifted again into an uncomfortable space. would the pirate take her? take her friend upstairs? take them both?