It started out simple. While the Candy Man discussed the nature of another very present "Man," both Casey and Joe become lost in one another. The effects had set in and they were experiencing one another in a very new fashion. With each touch, each rub, electricity filled the air, encouraging more.
They each disrobed without a care to who was present. Ecstasy coursed through his veins into hers. His hands ran the whole of her, a feeling Casey encouraged. It was heated, a passion that couldn't be communicated by Joe in mere words, like a moment in time that had no definition. As if the only perceivable way to delineate the mood through Joe's eyes would be to apply passion rapture to every sense simultaneously to a point that borders on overwhelming. As it ended, Joe collapsed on the tent floor, breathing in the fumes of a newly lit cigarette, the feel of sweat still on his lips. Joe wanted to kiss her but refrained, out of an instilled social fear of tasting himself. Instead, he simply allowed sleep to take him.
He woke a short time later, still very much in a different place. He rolled over to find Casey curiously absent. After some rough re-robing he ventured outward. The air hit him first, a stench unfamiliar, but potent nonetheless. The lights followed, flashing, signaling, a kaleidoscope of patterns filled the area and Joe's first thought was "So this is what I a rave looks like." He then embarked on his quest to find his princess. With each passing nude couple, with each swinger group engaging in public passion, Joe swelled with more and more feelings. He wanted to have her by his side.
After interrupting several open couples, running into over a dozen painted individuals to the point where he himself resembled a child's finger painting and right over narrowly dodging a giant phallic statue, he found her.
There she was, the first woman to excite him, to ignite his very existence. The love of his life..........
with her tongue firmly planted in another woman's mouth.
To Joe, it looked like passion. He had never seen a woman kiss another woman in such a fashion that wasn't scripted.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm enjoying myself, what do you care?
I thought guys like this kind of stuff anyway."
"I'm not that kind of guy, I care about you. I love you."
"Aww Joe, I don't mind being a one man gal, I love you too.
But if you ever want her to join, just let me know. I'm willing to share."
"As tempting as that sounds, I want you to myself."
Joe said nothing. No matter how he scripted it in his drug induced head, he had enough sobriety to know that's not how it would play out. Instead he watched and listened for some sign.
Their make out session ended and the girl, a petite Italian who could easily be considered a minor, but more than likely fell in the category of college student, pushed her blue bangs out of her eyes, flicked her multi-pierced tongue at Casey and inquired about Casey's story. They moved through the crowd with the thought of liquid sustenance in mind while Casey narrated to her new found companion the story of her accompanied travels. Joe listened patiently, hoping his name would at least come up. It did not. The olive skinned deviant then inquired as to what inspired Casey to kiss her.
"If I'm attracted, I'm attracted. I believe there are different levels to everything, love is no different. Sometimes I want a snack, other times I want a full meal. Like this one time, we were at this poetry session. We were all putting some stuff together, real good shit you know and I wrote this piece. It's about this girl, back home. It's a long story. Anyway, it was so heart wrenching putting to words how I felt that after I read it I sought something. I needed just a glimpse of what I had, I just needed a taste. I ran to the bathroom and this hippie girl followed me. She loved it and wanted to know more. We walked to the back alley before my group left and I just opened right there, and she felt it. She felt my passion and so we ended up kissing. We both knew what it meant, so it wasn't going to be a thing. Then this incredibly naive kid Parker sees me and gives me the shittiest look, like I just spit in the eye of Jesus or something. I asked the lady to wait a minute and walked over to him, grabbed him by the color and made him promise not to speak a word. The others wouldn't understand.
Love doesn't have a face or form. It's not a concept that has parameters to hold it. Any social mores people have about the idea are just that: social. They are based on a society that wants to give definition, give ideas like love a paradigm to fit. You know the concept of marrying out of love is only about 200 years old. Means before then this institution of marriage had parameters for a very long time that's very different than what we hold today. Does that make it any more or less right?
Evangelicals and the sort hold their notions of love and marriage in such a high regard but the truth is, it's no different than the pagan rituals they frown upon. Do you know the origins of the wedding ring? It predates any designated religion. The premise behind it is pretty fucked. Back when humankind was still very primitive and warring on a constant basis, a tribe would capture another tribe, kill the men and enslave the women. The women were tied together, around the wrists, the neck and the feet. As time wore on, the tribe would gradually lessen the amount of rope used as long as the women remained docile and subservient. Eventually they would simply tie string around the woman's finger to remind her always of her servitude. You really think I'm going to subscribe to the notions of love from an institution like that?
I go with my heart, at least I know it's origins, and why should I be prohibited of enjoying myself and my company, man or woman? I just want to feel the world, to feel something beautiful. And I will always seize the day."
The azure haired beauty stood for a second and replied, "Wow, deep, and thank you I think."
Joe had left long before Casey finished her story, his only driving thought was "Where is Parker!"