Give and Take

by Love Kall

After the restaurant and the bar and the next bar and the walk to her place, in her bedroom as she begins to undress me, I notice a little blue porcelain teapot on her bedside table. The lid sits on the glass below, revealing the contents, a pile of something black and furry.

“What is that?” I ask.

“Eyelashes,” she says, grinning and replacing the lid, obscuring the nearfull pot. She pushes me onto her bed and my legs can do nothing but open for her. I did not notice, at first, how strong she is, the sculpt of her muscles hidden beneath a wool cardigan. But it becomes apparent, quickly and intimately, as she pulls my legs up to her shoulders and buries her fingers inside me.

After the first time I cum and we lay spent, catching our breath on her bare mattress stripped of the blanket and the wetness, I ask, “what for?” She throws an eyebrow up in question. I point to the teapot.

“They’re wishes,” she says, and reaches to touch my own eyelashes, long and abundant; some have called them beautiful. “Give one to me.” I close my eyes. I do not feel the pluck. She holds it between us on her index finger and then sets it in the teapot.

Something in me feels empty but then she is filling me again. On my back I watch her muscles flex between my legs, fingers to the knuckle. I reach to pull her arms, desperate now to have her beneath me, to give her the pleasure I feel so bodily. Instead, she pins my hands behind me.

“I don’t think so,” she says, smiling with her teeth. “Open your mouth,” and I do. She shoves three fingers between my sopping lips, working my throat. I gag and take it. I realize then, sucking on this stranger’s fingers, that I would take anything from her.

When we finally finish and I get dressed to leave, I look again at the little teapot of eyelashes and wonder what she wishes for. And if those were mine, I don’t think I would wish for this.

Love Kall (she/they) is a queer fiction writer living on unceded Coast Salish territory in Washington. They have previously been published in COUNTERCLOCK Journal.