11/16/10

Before the Apple Fell
By Leah Rogin-Roper


Oh, man there she was, with her hair flowing out behind her in tight dark circlets, and the ripe little cherries on her chest, her ass with that round apple curve. I’d never seen anything like her before, she was perfect. She was sublime. Her skin was the soft texture of clay, her eyes were a color that has not yet been named. I will call it “midnight.” I have not yet decided what I will call her.

I glanced at my reflection and straightened myself. When she saw me walking her way, her cherries twitched and the first sound that came out of her mouth sounded something like “Hah,” and I couldn’t tell if it was a question or an exclamation so I just grabbed her hand to see if she would push away or pull me closer.

She squeezed my hand a little and I took her in. Man, she was more beautiful than a woodchuck’s golden head popping out of a hole, more lovely than the wispy delicate legs of an ant. Her eyes curved upwards so it looked like she was smiling even when her mouth was drawn in a line. And her mouth, can you imagine the crisp red delight of her lips? I tried to think of a good opening line, but I wasn’t sure if she’d understand me or not. She had the look of the exotic about her, like she’d fallen out of the sky or sprouted from some newly dreamed tree.

“How do you like it?” was the first thing out of my mouth, and I felt my hands start to get damp, I’d never felt that before. “I mean, how do you like it?” I stuttered again as I studied her face.

“Oh, I like it,” she replied.

“When did you get here?” I asked, watching the way breath moved her cherries up and down.

“I just got here. Just now.” She looked around here as if she weren’t quite sure where exactly she was.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” I answered, trying to regain some measure of cool. “Would you like me to show you around?”

“That sounds wonderful.” She lowered her eyes and those lips curved up into a smile. Her dark eyebrows looked like the Euphrates and Tigris rivers, slightly intersecting above the pools of her eyes. We walked together and I could smell a soft jasmine perfume drifting from her.

How could I resist?

I showed her the glistening water fall, the animals, the painted sky, the lush plants from all over the world. “It’s all very impressive,” she whispered.

I saved my lounge area for last. I was allowed to decorate this area, and chose only the most comfortable and elegant pieces. Here, a smooth river-worn stick; there, a heap of plucked dandelion fluff.

Since she arrived I had felt tight and hot, longing for her. When we entered the lounge, I pushed her down into the fluff and lowered my own body on top of her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes wide with surprise and a bit of fear.

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. All I could feel was the tight, hot desire and my mouth was at her cherries, licking and sucking them. They were slightly tangy and sweet, and as my lips moved down her body I felt my groin tighten and throb. I poked it toward her, unsure of how she would react. She looked down at it, her eyes still wide though I couldn’t tell if it was because of fear or something else. She reached down and touched me gently with her hand, and I throbbed and pulsed, throbbed and pulsed, suddenly releasing into her perplexed almond eyed face and I felt the expulsion to my core, my head drifting into the sky.

“All praise be to God!” I screamed, panting slightly.

Disgusted, touching her cheek gingerly, she looked at me as if I must be a bit deranged. “That wasn’t at all what I expected it to be,” she said.

“Me neither,” I replied. She sighed and those little cherries bobbled up and down once before she rolled away from me.


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Leah Rogin-Roper writes flash fiction on purpose. She has been published in Fast Forward, The Mountain Gazette, and other places. She lives in the mountains west of Denver.