Amber Loves Charlie Pancinelli
(Published in Grain)
Amber loves Charlie Pancinelli. She loves the hot sweet feeling of his tongue on hers. She loves his hungry hands and the pressure of his body. Amber loves dating Charlie, he’s the best. The other guys just don’t cut it. She knows it belongs to her, all this sweetness. Couldn’t be in a boy.
Boys are weird, but oh, that Charlie Pancinelli, he’s got something the others ain’t.
Amber dreams of Charlie, gentle dreams of sweet abandon, no rules no time only tongues teeth soft inner flesh, hands rubbing and smoothing like her mother with the iron pressing all the thin white cloth until it’s smooth like skin, not a wrinkle. Old clothes made new and fresh like Charlie’s tee-shirt. Charlie smells of fresh laundry and desire. Amber knows he dreams of her. She knows she’s got him so she can coast and enjoy the sweet, sweet ride, gliding sliding onto Charlie, riding him like a horse. She lifts his big gentle hands to her breasts, her teeth shining in the dusklight of his bedroom. His parents are always out.
Amber likes taking risks with Charlie Pancinelli. She likes him better than ice cream, better than chocolate bars, better than a soda with a big thirst. She thirsts for Charlie’s sweet touch like an addict. She can never get enough.
Don’t ever go away Charlie Pancinelli. I’d die.
Sugar runs through her veins, into every corner he glances on, his touch so light, then pressing hard, then light as a feather, teasing, tasting, a bee at a flower opening, opening wider to give and receive the sweet, sweet liquid. She’s a molten weapon in Charlie’s hands, an express train out of control. Nothing can stop her, the world closes down. No sound, no sight, only Charlie the sugar man, sweet vendor, muscle boy.
Charlie boy you got me goin’ but it’s mine all mine, ya hear?
Oh, Charlie Pancinelli you’ll become legend. Amber will take her sweetness on the road, but she’ll never find another first love. She’ll move from one to another and another, sugar fermenting, drizzling into the crevices of her body, inebriating her soul. She will make the habitual motions of numb pleasure, circling, circling her ever active mind, seeking a memory of original sweetness. And you, Charlie Pancinelli, will forever be her first love, the one who drew her nectar out, the fuzzy-legged bumblebee boy with sweet tongue, strong hands, the shining tooth of desire gleaming in the dusklight of your bedroom.