Electra’s dictionary; Spy in the house of love/strip poker Noir

 

“Red follows grey across the air,

    The waves of moonlight ebb and flow

    But with the Dawn she does not go

And in the night-time she is there.

Dawn follows Dawn and Nights grow old....” 

                         —from The Sphinx

By Oscar Wilde

—and in trying to read between the lines, sunk in the nebulous morass, later

....it is only when he is inside me that he says,

“you won’t tell me....”

he takes this moment to press this and .... to drive it in

to press the question .... 

and although I realize he is always rational, in moments like these I can feel something that he never usually exposes —but later I always forget ....this 

I suspect even as I know why now this should be true but —I suppose if it was not something I understood in myself that .... I could almost easily overlook this about him; this awareness 

but I do not answer.... partly because I am somewhat caught up.... in his motions and —partly because I use this for excuse to hide

what does his rhetorical question mean? only, this too I understand .... because there is always another conversation going on with Jörn.... the more important conversation .... the one that is never said aloud with words .... but it is always going on and is loudly somehow expressed .... in that intrinsic way .... that he has. I have found about him, it is all in his subtleties —oh, those subtleties .... how much goes on below the surface .... those mute suggestions that seem —on the surface— something that it is easy to wonder if it is something I have imagined— but .... as it is so constant about him.... I cannot make the mistake to ignore .... and so like a spy! to only wish to convey without ever having to admit anything 

again he says it,

“you won’t say....” and this time with a measured tone, coupled expertly with his calculated physical motion and with it, as well, the added touch of his mouth from behind my ear to my lips and only when he is granted the aimed response does he intensify his purpose until I am forced to answer 

“Why should I....? I don’t know what you mean....”

again —pressing— his advantage he says,

“you still don’t trust me,” but still it is not a question 

“It is not that ....” and only thus caught up within this aura he exudes, only obvious in coitus am I ever acutely aware of the rawness behind it which is easy to otherwise miss as he does not, by habit, let show

“No?” he asks

it is when I start to say, 

“you hide behind your spy persona—“ that he pushes me up against the headboard using his body to impale with the same calculations of practiced technique he does in everything— but now for his personal interest to cross examine; he  searches my eyes and it is only because I understand that hidden language of his kryptonite do I finally ..... see something unintended of a hint there exposed 

but I say,

“no —you— will not say....” only I am meaning something else and stare back at him knowing there is nothing between us —not here in this moment; as there is no way to hide myself; he knows every move to undo me—which he does.... more than once. And only after the third or forth does the resistance exhaust for me to finally say, “you refuse to acknowledge....”

“Acknowledge what?”

 “—that you need .... or even that I matter to you— to....”