Saturday, 23 February 2013

The Sound of Sirens

When my eyes were stabbed by
The flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

Last night we had sex for the first time in our new bed. Twice. It was really good.

To be honest, I'm not overly surprised we ended up having sex. We'd been wanting to do it for some time, but Things kept getting in the way. Once we'd dispensed of (ignored, actually) said Things, it was relatively ease to slip into bed and get in the mood... although the fact that Jilly returned from the bathroom to find me reclining on the bed in the supine position without wearing any clothes probably proved to be the kickstart.

I'm not complaining.

About one and a half hours later (give or take...), I found myself lying on my back completely spent. Opening my eyes just a crack, I was confronted by a few sensations from our window I found comforting. In odd ways.

The second was a flashing neon light from a police car. It drew my eyes towards other lights in the distance - traffic lights, Belisha beacons, street lamps. Our window looks towards (although not directly on to, but we're close enough) a main road (dual carriageway, actually), which our new house is about half a mile from. A glance out of the window game me a view of office blocks, flat high-rises and an upmarket hotel, in addition to the road's car-regulating features.

In many other situations this would be ugly, depressing or downright unpleasant. But we don't live in a  bad area, and more crucially, I like urban landscapes. The view reminded me of the cityscape sprawl that greeted me out of the window of my room at university - on the top floor of a high tower in a major city. My parents' house doesn't have this sort of view... but seeing and hearing distant cars going on their way makes me think of movement myself, and I do love to travel.

However, the first came before I even looked out of the window. Almost immediately after I entered the post-orgasmic "not here, leave a message after the tone" phase, my ears clocked an emergency siren (possibly from the aforementioned police car, although it probably could have been any of the emergency services - cave rescue notwithstanding). I found this comforting.

You are probably wondering why (I should hope so, at least). Well, barring the first year at university (in the tower), I've always lived in the centre of suburbia, especially counting the 25 years of my life (minus half of three) during which I lived in the same house. In all these locations, there is the occasional wail of an emergency service vehicle coming or going - although nothing too immediate. It's always been distant, but with the same main road being relatively near my parents' home and this new locale, it's not unknown for the sound to be heard.

It takes me back to the multitude of times I've been lying on my back post-orgasm. It reminds me of times I've been warm and safe. It's an audible memory of the release I had after a long and hard day. Being in the same familiar state with the same familiar sound makes me feel that relaxation once again.

And if it's a siren, so be it. It works for me.

We all need our comfort.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Absolutely nothing wrong with that and yay for finally having sex in the new place. Hopefully that got both of you to a place where you were swimming in endorphins.