Habana vieja

Sitting in my porch somewhere close to your Antipodes, I look up at the nightly sky and see the amazing full moon - the same you see from your window in that old decadent continent - and when I look down again, my eyes start seeing images from Cuba, bringing me into new unexplored realms of imagination…

I see us in Old Havana, wandering around the empty streets holding hands under the star-lit night, the music and the laughter of a busy salsa bar being heard in the distance and gradually fading as we go deeper into the city; deeper into ourselves. After being drinking and dancing the whole night, we now stare at each other and discuss the way we are going to save the world this time. I love to hear you speaking passionately, being carried away by your emotions. I try to make you look at it from a more diplomatic perspective. You get angry. I pull you towards me, putting my arm around your neck. You smile.

The local rum is starting to kick in, clumsing our steps, taking some good laughs out of us and awakening our desire. At some point we fall silent, and so the complicity in our eyes lights up the fire.

We melt in a heated kiss in a dark random alley of Old Havana. Our lips dance together to the sound of Cuban salsa and I realize I don’t have enough hands to touch at once all the parts of your body that I would like to. I explore your body eagerly, liking you more by the minute, wanting you more by the second.

©David G. Fernández

An old Chevrolet from the 50s stands still next to us, as it stood still during the repression years of Batista, the revolution and the communist rule. The polished surface of the car, that once reflected the struggle of the Cuban revolutionaries, now reflects the image of a kissing couple; perhaps two revolutionaries of modern times.

Our passion grows like an uncontrollable fire; a kind of passion that cannot be contained for too long and will eventually overflow, flooding the city with a new revolution. Your lips, you eyes, your ears, your hands… all of them contribute to the inevitable sign of male horniness. You smile at me, teasingly, when you notice it. So you pull me towards you, I push you towards the old Chevrolet, and we let us go.

Smiling, you undo the buttons of my shirt slowly, while I look into your eyes. With my shirt open, you feel my hairy chest with your warm hand. I get grip on your legs and sit you on the hood of the car. You circle my waist with your legs and trap me, indicating that you are not going to let me go. I hug you strongly and smell your essence on the delicate skin of your shoulder. I kiss you from your neck to your ear, licking it with the tip of my tongue, biting it softly. Your hands are holding my neck and my back pulling me towards you, while you shudder trying to close your legs; however, I’m in between them. Then you whisper into my ear: “Fais-moi l’amour now… as if there was no tomorrow”.

And we make love in a quiet night, on top of a 50-year-old car in a forgotten part of the city.

Meanwhile, Batista still cries from his grave in exile, the locals continue dancing until dawn to the sound of salsa, and the majestic moon watches us from above, shedding light over our half-naked bodies and becoming the only witness of our furtive, passionate love affair.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QNpUyQ68BKo

This one is for E.