Shifts

When he was with Vince, he would become another. A jelly that shook in no particular direction. No particular speed. All in him was colliding--atoms in a berserk nuclear accelerator ever speeding and spinning. The black heavy leather dress shoes slid off almost of a mind of their own. Not too pleasant but fine enough Enoch thought.

His head moved--so did the others. Just that bit was electric-eeling Enoch beyond a sense of solidity he still hoped to regain. Otherwise the fulcrum fell away and he was lost. The soft grey and blue herringbone sports coat shucked itself off and Enoch was in no state to help retrieve it in this dark yet hotcoldcoolcoldhot alcove. The body was outsinging any and most new things that Whitman would have ever been able to admit to in or outside of himself.

Timidity is not a commodity that Enoch could hope for any longer. It was a time to move, thrust and parry. Get what you want and give it now. Before the opportunity slips into a near state of water, a sweat that never makes it beyond instant conception and then similar dispensation.

Do something, idiot.

Don't let this universe of intermix pass you by.

God when he glimpses half-eye closed at me, I get so burned beyond what the sun could ever do to me. But the feel of this one is better and the lips are too plump and starving to be ignored. Not that mine are any more fulfilled than his. I will remain Medusaed until he shifts an inch. Vincent was being pulverized by this inability to keep centered, not to let his need outweigh cat-like perceptions of danger. And of intrigue.

His black suit pants rose up, un and still yet wanted, to the sky and swallowed a cloud of purest purple bordered in cerise and yellow. Only then did his digit shift slightly to the immediate indigoed left.

What was left behind were his bare well-tanned legs, solid muscles and tight purple boxers. Both Vince and Enoch were pleased.

Although they refused to show it. At least facially. At least emotionally. To the best of their meager abilities.

But the body does give things away.

Enoch could feel the blend taking effect now. Multiples became a singular rolling tsunami. Focus was sharpened on all levels of the senses. The mind and blocks from within it went away as he had longed they should. Just the real and immediate mircoseconds of true living were important. The binding ties to the imposing outer universe melting into a dew. His neck bulged with a sudden but beneficent shot of blood racing to the cortices and his red and blue piece of silken neckwear did the same.

Vince's solid purple tie had just done the exact liberating action as Enoch's but with another growing, pulsing flood lower down to boot. He was elated and jimmy-jazzed up all over to observe before further immersion that Enoch was counterpointing and co-ordinating with him precisely and as deeply as Vince was.