It was at the burn, last year.

And I know this feels

like the hottest ever, but it always feels like that, and

it felt just as hot at the time. I think back, and I swear

it had to be hotter. We were the only camp on the playa

that had a fly bothering us -- it must have stowed away in

somebody’s bag -- and even our fly was too hot to move,

which was good because we were too hot to swat it. It only

had energy at night and in the morning. At night, we’d be

out, and in the morning, we'd be at its mercy, because we

were exhausted from the night before, saving our energy for

the next, so it had the run of the place.

Of course nobody’d brought any bug spray. Finally one

guy in our camp couldn't take it anymore; he said it woke

him up buzzing in his ears every morning. So he got some

honey from somewhere, and mixed it with E, and spread it on

strips of paper that he hung everywhere. It worked; it

buzzed around the strips for awhile, like something wasn’t

right, but eventually it landed. And soon it was dead. This

is your fly on drugs!

So we had no more fly problems, but that didn't make

it any less hot.

 Anyway, one afternoon most of us were going out early

to see some art before a party at a other camp. I was

supposed to go too, but I'd only gotten to bed at about

noon, so I had a hard time rolling out and no one wanted to

wait for me, and I was left by myself. When I heard someone

come back in, my head was still in my pillow, and I just

told them to forget it and go on without me.

Someone answered. I'd never heard her voice before,

and I started up before I realized what she was saying. I

still don't remember exactly what it was, something like,

“If I'd wanted to do that, I wouldn't have come in.”

I'd seen her before, around the place; she must have

been camped somewhere nearby. We'd made eye contact and

shared a nod, but we'd never spoken. Tall woman, older than

me, I think. Or maybe it was just how she wore the playa;

she always seemed weathered, like wood that's been smoothed

by sand in the wind.

After a few seconds, she asked, “Do you want me to

go?” and I realized I'd just been lying there, staring, as

all those thoughts had gone through my head! So,

embarrassed and scrambling to sit up, I said, “No! No! Come

in!” and I was apologizing and saying god knows what. I

remember, I was a little bit scared of her, even though I

didn't know why -- still don't exactly. She wasn't

threatening at all. She just felt... I guess the way the

playa does sometimes; there's that feeling it could swallow

you up, even sitting right here in camp.

Usually when I saw her she was wearing the kind of

knee-high boots you could use to crush the skulls of your

enemies. Every day a different hat. Now she was barefoot,

and wearing biker shorts, a black tank that said “Support

Local Music: Fuck a Musician”. Between them, around her

navel, was a sunburst tattoo, in black, the rays twisting

like tentacles. She wore one of those Crocodile Dundee

hats, with the teeth around the rim.

Her hair was black, matte black from the dust --

somehow it looked like leather. It was parted in the

middle, and a streak of fuchsia hung on each side, from a

widow's peak, framing her face. With the dust washed off

her face, her skin was almost glowing, and she didn't look

much older anymore. Her face was amazing. It was shaped

like a heart, and her mouth was a second heart, dark and

wet, inside of it.

 I wanted to stand, but it felt silly, she'd still be

towering over me. She probably wasn't really that tall, but

she felt that tall; the way you cast a long shadow at

sundown that stretches forever? Except it was like her

shadow cast her, and she stretched up to the ceiling. So I

just sat, like an idiot, while she walked over and sat down

across from me, on a big wooden trunk we were using like a

coffee table.

She leaned forward and said, “I've watched you around.

You're really pretty.”

Yes, just like that, just like a line from a porn

video! And if I'd seen it in a porn video I would have

rolled my eyes, or laughed.

But this wasn't a movie. This was me sitting across

from her, looking into eyes that looked as black as her

hair, looked so big they could swallow me. And at the same

time smelling the sandalwood under her sweat, or maybe the

other way around. And the aesthetics and the physicality

and the presence of her, just hit me one-two-three, and I

almost didn’t hear what she said next because I was busy

watching the shapes her mouth made as she said it.

 That must have all been written across my face,

because what she said was, “You want me to kiss you. Don’t

you?”

That question. How do you answer a question that isn’t

really a question? It was like she was reading my lines for

me, reading them straight off of my mind before I could get

them into my mouth. But maybe she read that, too, because

next she saved me from answering.

She said, “I want to kiss you. But first you have to

kiss me.”

I felt like the fly; her lips hanging in front of me,

glistening, like poisoned honey -- even though I sensed the

poison was there, every instinct was telling me to taste.

She did... something with her lips, some little pursing

quiver, and that was it, I was caught. I leaned forward and

tasted. And then I drowned.

I didn't mean to go so far into the kiss so fast, but

she just seemed to swallow me up. As soon as my lips

touched hers, they melted under me, and parted, and I fell

in up to my tongue.
 Maybe her lipstick had E in it. But E doesn’t work

that fast, it doesn’t spread across your skin from a kiss

like a match dropped into gasoline. Goosebumps swept over

me, not caring about the heat.

Her mouth was on mine like it was trying to swallow

me, opening to take in my whole face. Something in me

panicked, and wanted to fight back; I bit. And she bit back.

The sudden violence signaled something; her hands had

crept into mine, but now they moved and took me by my arms,

tight enough to pull me to my feet when she stood, to pull

me off my feet; she stood to her full height without

breaking our kiss for an instant. As she stepped over my

cot, holding me in the air, I remember all I could think of

was how strong she was, and soft, at the same time. And

then I was against the wall, a foot off the floor, but then

my legs were around her waist, which must have helped,

because she was able to let go of my arms. I wrapped them

around her neck and head, ran my hands over the heart-shape

of her face as she wrapped hers around me and dug her nails

into my shoulders.

Our mouths wandered more, and I cried out as she bit

my neck. I cried out, but I pressed her tighter to me so

she wouldn't think she should stop. I'd already started to

taste blood, but I didn't now if it was mine or hers, and I

realized I was hoping it was both, as if some magic would

take over and our flesh would mix the same way.

And maybe it did. One of her hands moved to the back

of my head and grabbed my hair; she pulled my head back,

hard, exposing my neck, and bit again on the other side --

I knew I'd wear the mark of it for at least a week. Then

she pulled back and pushed my hips away, so I fell to my

feet, her hand still in my hair. She pulled me down by my

hair until I was at her waist, turned my eyes to the

drawstring of her shorts, and said, "Take them off."

I would have done it anyway, but with her grip in my

hair and her growl in my ear, I fumbled over my own fingers

in my rush to please. I pulled them down around her ankles

and she stepped out...

Surprise, she wasn't wearing anything underneath! She

was trimmed, not shaved, and it her real hair color was

reddish brown. That's all I had time to register before she

pulled me forward -- I still can't believe how strong she

was, with only one arm (I looked up and she was bracing the

other against the wall). Then I tasted her again, and my

eyes closed and rolled back in my head, and all I knew was

taste and touch.

She tasted... god, "musky" is such a cliché, but it's

true. Acid, maybe citrus-y And it's crazy but I swear there

was something like whiskey! I wanted to wrap my arms around

her legs and pull myself closer, but I found I couldn't

bring myself to do anything without her telling me to.

Instead I just knelt there with my hands in my lap, and let

my consciousness flow into my mouth, until it was like I

was my mouth.

My need to taste her and my need to please her began

to run together, and it was as though I could taste her

pleasure; I could tell when my tongue was exactly where she

wanted it to be, and that spot at that time always tasted

sweetest, and I quickly learned to find that spot as it

danced around, to know the right pace, the right speed, the

right pressure... When to use my lips, when to use my

tongue... inside, outside, all about the town!

When I opened my eyes again, hers were closed, her

face halfway between grimace and delight. She wasn't

leaning against the wall anymore; She was swaying front to

back, her top pulled up and hand on her right breast,

twisting her nipple. I wanted to reach up and touch her

left, to stroke it, gently, for contrast... but she hadn't

told me to, so I didn't. I closed my eyes and went back

into my mouth.

Eating her out was like an orgasm; it went on forever,

and it was over before I knew it. I know she came... I

don't know if it was more than once; if it was, they ran

into one another in my mind, which was my mouth. It ended

when she pulled my face away from her... I didn't want to

stop, but more I wanted to show how well I could behave.

She looked down at me, breathing heavily -- I guess we

were both breathing heavily -- I hadn't really been able to

come up for air when I needed. She looked like she was

making an effort to focus her eyes. Then she pulled me

around by my hair, and pushed me onto my cot. I was shaky,

trying to remember how my arms and legs worked, but I got

myself onto it, and she dropped to her knees in front of

me. Her hat was still on; she swept it off and threw it

away with one motion, and with another pushed me back.

I was wearing shorts. Surprise, nothing underneath! I

wanted her to tear them off, but she wasn’t urgent anymore,

just insistent. I was the fly again, and now she was a
spider; I’d taken her poison, and should eat me when as she

wanted. I don’t know if she was trying to torture me by

taking her time... I like to think she was.

I lay my head back and closed my eyes; it was easier

to close them and imagine that watching and waiting. I

could feel her breath on my thighs, sending tingling waves

over my skin; she was already caressing me with her breath.

When she touched me with her hands, the solidness felt so

intense that I jumped a little. As she peeled off my shorts

she nuzzled my thighs, taking little nibbles with just her

lips, whispering into them; I couldn’t really hear them,

but it felt like I could read her lips through my skin; she

was whispering how beautiful she thought this weird little

body of mine is.

She stopped to pull my shorts down, off my legs, but

the fabric sliding over my skin was a caress in itself, and

a shiver ran up my spine; again goosebumps rose on my arms

and legs. There couldn’t have been a cold draft in that

stifling place, but I felt one as she uncovered me; a

sudden breeze as my heat and wetness were exposed to the

air.
 Then she had them off. I still had my eyes closed, and

again I jumped at the shock when her fingers touched me,

lightly, running slowly over my lips, then not so lightly,

cupping me, spreading me. As they reached inside me my eyes

opened wide; my hips rose on their own as my back arched,

but she whispered into my skin to relax, so I forced myself

to.

When I had, she raised her arms around my legs, hands

stroking my hips, and pulled herself closer. My eyes

closed again and rolled back as I felt her breath grow

closer and hotter, kissing me like ghost lips; and then

again the shock of her real lips sent shivers up my spine.

Her grip on my hips tightened as she leaned in; her lips

parted mine, lightly, and her tongue darted across them

just like a light, tender kiss on my mouth. I could help

it, I leaned into her a bit, but she didn’t tell me to

stop.

My pussy had become like a second mouth, and I was

kissing her back; I felt like I could taste her lips, even

as I still tasted her on my tongue. I wasn’t afraid of her

poison anymore, I wanted it all, wanted to drink it in

until everything had gone the black of her hair; I couldn’t

think of a better way to die than to drown in her, and part

of me felt this was my chance, and hoped I wouldn’t be here

anymore when she was done.

But she wasn’t done. Her tongue grew stronger, though

she never stopped teasing me with her lips. She chased my

the pleasure around my nerves; it couldn’t hide from her

tongue for a second, she always found the right spot, the

right pressure, licking, flicking, now stroking my clit

with her fingers when her mouth was too far away. I felt

the waves of sensation building, about to break over me,

and I was so ready to come... but she must have felt it

too, because that’s when she turned her mouth away, and

started nuzzling my thighs again. I slowly came down, but

not far. She didn’t let me come down far before she started

chasing me back up.

She played with me like that... I don’t now how long.

I lost count of the times I almost came -- lost the ability

to count. Sometimes I actually begged her to let me come,

sometimes I lost the feeling of the cot beneath me, or

everything but her mouth, and just floated in space. And

each time, my need to come was stronger, and each time I

was more exhausted. When she finally let me come, it was so

weak I could barely react, but it went on forever, a long,

low tide that was as much as my nerves could take.

That was it. I’d been running on adrenaline since I

heard her voice, and now it was all spent. Everything faded

to black. Like her hair. My last thought was happiness that

there seemed to be no dreams.

I remember the disappointment when I woke up.

Disappointment that I had woken up. There’d been no dreams.

Just... nothing. And then I opened my eyes and nirvana

turned into 96-degree heat, sex dried onto my face and

thighs, and a dead fly still stuck to a strip of paper

right over my head. I was dehydrated -- it was all I could

do to reach a water bottle.

So the poison hadn’t been what I’d hoped. But it was

real, because it’s still there. I haven’t seen her this

year, but I keep looking, out of the corner of my eye.

There’s the thought in the back of my head that maybe next

time it will be different. Maybe next time I won’t wake up.