The Pitch Black Kiss

" thinking about women and glasses of beer,
...and closing his eyes as the doggies retire...."

Sweet Baby James by James Taylor



The Pitch Black Kiss

There is, within each and everyone of us, a small foible or habit that we have that most often than not, we'd rather keep on the sidelines unnoticed altogether. Maybe its biting a nail at a crucial moment. Or always, always trying to repair split ends. Or in my case, its the fact I do talk in my sleep...and the consequences can be hilarious too. The fact that dreams are such wonderful, powerful tools of expression and a virtual reservoir of emotions have us more often than not seeking out the meanings to the previous night's 'home movie'. In addition to speaking while snoozing, I also somnoambulate as well - and I have heard from many what an effect a walking, talking dude in the pitch dark can have of anyone in the near surroundings....

Ah, you say.

Ah, says I.

There is one night that will always be remembered for the rapidity in which the dream descended upon me there while I had gently planted my cranium atop a firm pillow; I recall having worked diligently all day long in the gardens around the home and drinking glass after glass of iced tea and Pepsi. I was thoroughly drained by all the tasks at hand and when the bliss of slumber overtook me there, soon I was to dream of an event I'll never forget.

The dream began with my visiting the countryside of France - a very rich and vibrant picturescape of vineyards, chalets, courtyards and bistros. The dream had along with it the full accompaniment of Monet-style settings; the pond with a small bridge crossing o'er and with the fragrant vine of clematis wrapping around the railings and the clusters of flowers lowering as if in cascade to the very edge of the water. I took in the sights and smells of the rows of shops, the small hidden foyers and courtyards where families were opening lunches and bottles of wine in the resplendent sunshine. I dreamed that I was alone..not painfully so but very definitely solo. It was so perfectly okay too, for I could continue to soak up all the objects of the senses without having to stop and converse with a friend alongside.

It was here that I began to perceive through the veil of the dream that I was feeling hunger in a strange way; it was bolstered by an imagined odor of fresh bread leaving the hearth oven in the distance and I immediately set out to enjoy this very kind of fare. I soon spied tables outside the bakery (which was filled with French locals, all seemingly smiling in my general direction and nodding their approval) and immediately spoke to the owner who beckoned me to sit...and enjoy the samples of French breads with artisan cheeses and fresh butter. I cannot begin to estimate exactly how much I consumed nor for how long I consumed it! It was pure....................bliss.

A bold, strikingly beautiful woman had at that moment left the bakery doorway and looking about for a place to sit, she found all the tables filled with customers busily. I stood up and offered her my seat and in perfect Francais, she responded that she would accept it with grace and equanamity. I noticed that as she sat down at the tiny bistro table, she motioned to an empty chair nearby and asked if I wouldnt mind using it and join her? I agreed. I strode over post-haste to retrieve the windsor chair and placed it alongside of my newfound acquaintance. I caught her gazing at my legs, hips and buttocks as I stooped to pick up the chair and her eyes locked playfully on mine in that instant. Her smile held me fast to one place and I began to feel her smile gradually more so with that knowing sparkle in her eyes.

" Bon pantaloons", she said coyly, her lips touching the very edge of the coffee cup while I felt my face, ears and scalp starting to tingle.

Bon pantaloons indeed, I thought. Good pants indeed.

And so, with near perfect poise and absolute impeccable French, she began to ask me questions of my life and whereabouts....and I did my best to comply with them, explaining that I was a physician and had been responsible for the continuing care of people too numerous to mention. It was like me, I said, to escape to the Bordeaux region of France every chance I could, leaving my cares back Stateside. She nodded knowingly, almost sagely, while removing a cigarette from a thin gold case, its brilliant yellow metal shining in the day's sunlight. I nearly missed my chance to offer a light and luck was with me for I just happened to have matches in the front pocket of my fresh-pressed khakis; as I struck the match and proffered the light, she leaned forward and her blonde hair - silky and straight - spilled forward onto my wrist. Simultaneously, we both reached for her blonde locks that had slipped over the shoulder's boundaries as they were too close to the tiny flame for comfort. In one fell motion, I shook my hand to extinguish the match, dropping it to the ground while reaching forward with extended fingers to catch the strands that seemingly had let go of the very air. Our hands met with a very smooth contact, a very warm pooling of what I could promise you felt like an abiding trust given to each other outright. Our grasp did not end there, for she closed her thumb and forefinger around the knuckles closest to my wrist, feeling each one gently, with a near-sensuous rhythm that telegraphed to me that this was no ordinary acquaintance that I was making. Exhaling now, she plied smoke to the side of either us, looking into my gaze deeply, carefully and without fear or trepidation.

"And who," I asked, taking a drag on a Dunhill, "...are you? Hmmn...?"

She demurely put her cigarette case back into her purse while looking out towards the beautiful broad French countryside and she appeared to gather her thoughts which, as far as I could tell, were as together as the gardens that grew all around where we sat. Do know, before me was an exquisite beauty - a very cultured beauty - and though I feigned not being aware of her identity, I knew exactly who she was. In her earlier years, she was a reknowned model before leaving that profession for something far more complicated....and dangerous. I half-hoped that she would tell me a half-truth in the moments to come, but I was in for a surprise of a lifetime. It turns out that I hadn't been completely true with her either - and was floored with her reply back to me - spoken gently in my ear.

"The daylight has eyes," she repeated a well-known phrase to me, " but the night has ears".

With that, she leaned forward and snuggling in close, gave me a series of kisses along the ridge of my ear, then down to the lobe and finally, several deep penetrating kisses into my ear itself. I felt an enormous surge of romantic pleasure and utter disbelief course through my very being! So intense was this feeling and urgently did I wish to reciprocate that I immediately slid my hands from her hair to her shoulders in hopes that I too could give of myself as she had given of her own. In an instant, as I gave moment's thought to how to position myself, she lowered herself to my neck and using her tongue deftly, traced the carotid arteries on each side and giving special attention to the scalene muscles as well.

I was in heaven-on-earth.

As I basked in the resurgent warmth of her romantic ministrations, I was stunned by what amounted to be a virtual coup-de-grace that found her tongue swiftly entering my mouth, swirling the teeth above and below...returning to bathe the upper and lower palate with it's seemingly unquenchable ability to lift me to greater ethereal, amorous heights.

I did, at the very peak of my experience, seem to experience a sort of morphosis in regards to my sense of smell. This beautiful woman had a unique scent - almost of the same league as lavender, roses and juniper berries but there was one thing that struck me as odd while we were delicately smooching there outside the bakery/bistro....her afterbreath. It seems that after every single kiss there was almost like a cloying lingering in the air around me...almost like that of cereal?!?

Oh, I thought to myself in the very depths of the dream.....of course she smells of grains! Why, you both have just left the bakery!!

It was then I realised that I had had a small piece of 'bread' still stuck to an inside tooth and I immediately tried to chew this rogue piece of bread but to my amazement, it was remarkably crunchy. I do mean crunchy. It seemed the more I bit down, the more the 'grain' became crunchier. I started to realise that perhaps the bakery wasn't exactly putting in the proper ingredients and I realised that I had smelled this very smell before......

In the wee hours of early morn I discovered what it was...it was the smell of Pro Plan Adult Breed Purina Dog Chow.

To say that I had left my dream - my beautiful dream - in an extraordinary flight to wakefulness is a classic understatement. My eyes shot open and I found myself laying on my side and upon the very edge of the bed in complete utter darkness. I could faintly feel a source of warm, steady breathing a full foot away from me and gradually, by the aid of a nightlight, make out the unmistakable large black nose and ears, the white teeth, the pink tongue and now, the furiously wagging tail.

My 'girlfriend' of my dreams was neither blonde nor French but certainly heard me talking in my sleep from where she lay on her bed there on the floor.

When it dawned on me then that I had for all practical purposes been bussed by my German Shepherd, it is without exaggeration that after two bottles of Listerine and a full half tube of Colgate later, I still was not satisfied that I had defeated every single canine cootie that had perchance entered into play at that point. Sure, even to this day I see famous stars with lap dogs kissing them on the open mouth - and the argument has been made that a canine's mouth is cleaner than that of a human.

But I have to admit, I'm not one for taking any chances ...