ON MY BACK on the kitchen floor, she was facing me, her hair all done up in curls. She was very proud of herself because of the success of her latest exhibition. She was wearing a white gown, I imagine she had been sleeping, or was in the midst of preparing for bed. I looked up from my spot on the floor and said, “Come here,” and pulled her on top of me. She laughed when I did this. There was of course the question of how far this kitchen game would go.
The kitchen hadn’t been remodeled for decades. There was blue tile on the walls, one window with a raggy curtain. Two other Viljandi ladies sat behind her on chairs. They were enjoying the scene, it was just like their community cinema, kogukonnakino. Our faces were face to face, and her dark curls were everywhere, and then the lips parted. There was that hesitancy that’s always there, the heft of a warm figure across my abdomen, and then the tongues that began to probe each other, like playful little snakes. One went in and the other went around.
As this was going on, the Viljandi ladies from the community cinema approached her from the back and began to massage her legs. She laughed out of pleasure and joy, and the kissing continued. Then, from downstairs, I heard the creak of a door, and the fourth woman arrived, a young artist in a corduroy jacket. Somehow I could see her in the foyer even though I was on the floor. Her eyes were alive with happiness. Her reddish hair was pulled back, her cheeks were rosy pink. She had a package in hand. Another birthday gift! “Well,” she said. “I’m here!”
north! 