Page 65 of Devil Inside

For a room with such tight confinements, the space between us feels like a gulf.

He doesn’t make a sound. Neither do we.

Only the swell of the city behind us can be heard. The occasional car passing by below. A far-off siren wailing into the night. People are hurting themselves, dying out there.

Inside, however, there is only us. Our bodies. This paper-thin skin. These barriers mean so little to us. Nothing can hold us back from slipping in. It would be so easy to enter.

So easy to dive inside him.

And yet... I hesitate. I want to remain outside of him, his body, in order to experience the sensation of him. Feel him as others do. Through touch. Let’s let these bodies do what bodies do and feel everything there is to feel, marinate in our senses for another night.

One more night with Jordan. That’s it, that’s all, nothing more. That’s the line we draw for ourselves. Once more. Just one more night with him. Let’s see if he can find us.

Who knows? Maybe he’ll like what he discovers.

So we remain outside his flesh. Let him come to us.

Will we let him in?

There is nothing in this room beyond our breath. His... and ours. We wish to contribute our own exhalations to the humid ozone of his bedroom.

Jordan presses himself against the adjoining wall. He watches us close in, breath held in his chest. He’s afraid of us, still. We sense it, that fear. It sweetens the air between us. We let his inhale draw us closer, an undertow of breath pulling us further out to sea.

Toward him.

His gray eyes won’t leave us. Always searching. So stoic, so silent, and yet... there’s fear. We sense it, that terror, radiating from his skin. The very heat of it.

What does he see? Inside us? Has anyone ever truly looked that deep before? Everyone else always stops at the surface, never probing further than the flesh.

It wouldn’t be so bad, would it? To be seen? To be known? For someone to peer through the layers, get past the skin and sinew, and uncover what’s nestled within...

How would it feel for someone to see us? Who I am? I’ve never felt that before. It’s always been so easy to hide behind the eyes of my hosts. Their skin is a perfect mask.

Who am I then? What does Jordan see?

Why is that so frightening? It’s he who should be frightened of me.

Maybe we both are.

“What do you see?” We close in, narrowing that gap on our hands and knees.

“You.”

“And who are we?”Who am I?“Describe me.”

“Dark hair. Pale skin. Tattoos.”

“No... Who am I?”

The space between our bodies tightens. We creep across the mattress, one hand over the other, a tiger approaching its prey.He’s cornered. He can’t escape. We are between him and the door now. If he tried to leave, leap out of bed and lunge for the door, we would pounce upon him. Take him to the floor. He is ours now. We want him. Need him.

We sense that we are wet. Dripping from within.

There is so little air in this room. What is that scent? Tobacco. The smell of smoke suspends itself, thick with cigarettes.

His face is a mask, but his fear shows through.Shines.Maybe it’s not fear. Maybe he’s excited. There it is, that thrum of anticipation. He’s eager for this. So are we. So am I.

“Go deeper,” I ask. “I want you to look. Look at me. Seeme.”