Control

When he stood his head touched the ceiling of the small cedar box. It was his first experience of a sauna. It was dry, yet the temperature was more comfortable than what he had expected.

The sound of the timer seemed annoying at first, but it was quickly drowned out by memories. Attention was brought to his legs, their hairs, and small pinches each follicle made when rubbed by his hands.

The light from the late sun reflected off the siding of the house. It created a hypnotizing grey haze that the eyes struggled adjusting to. He grounded himself through looking out the door window. The blue of the afternoon contrasted the peachy clouds.

His thoughts visited a time when he was on his own. He could do as he pleased without the judgement of others. If he flirted with a man no one could object. He was free to love, smoke, and drink. So little would interrupt foolish actions.

When he was touched by another the speed was significantly slower then. It was within quiet rooms unbothered by common sounds or schedules. Could his lovers appreciate it to the magnitude that he did? Could they feel the intensity or the reason for its meaning?

What did it matter if they could? He was happy whether they shared it or not. He realized how insignificant it was to be understood. He knew life's beauty and the pleasures in romance. He was content in knowing himself. His ambitions in love were to have all that it offered him while contributing to the experience of his partner.

It fascinated him to find how each lover wanted to be touched; discovering their sensitivity and reaction to his hands. He wanted to know their thoughts. He memorized their interests and their expressions made whenever they appeared unguarded. He asked himself what price he must pay to keep this moment or to have them desire him. How could he become wanted? These things were beyond his control, just like the colors the sun had made in the vapors of water in clouds. He wanted the sky in the way he desired to be possessed.

Along with his ambition to serve equally existed the understanding that he was 't obligated to give. He could experience pleasure without any effort to learn about his lovers. These thoughts frightened him for his own desires were dependent on selflessness. He could ask for nothing, as no one was obligated. He could only act and hope for something to be returned.

Droplets formed on his shoulder and he observed the spaces between them. They seemed equally balanced as neither one touched the other. They contained in their reflections hints of the blue sky. He became conscious of his body and the position he was sitting. Touching himself created flashes of subtle romantic thoughts; some real; some imagined.

He was convinced that the only companion for him would have practiced a similar caress. The way he held his own body contained gentleness an appreciation for peace. Did he know of any others who strived for this? He thought he was alone in his desire for independence; to hold himself in peace. If he found a lover who silenced their thoughts for the beauty he saw in lust, he suspected that in time they'd share their concerns an he'd be expected to council things beyond his control. He wanted to love; not to council; not to change. The world seemed interested in change while his interests remained fixed on simple pleasure.

As he held himself that day he continued to observe the sweat pour off him in spite of the absence of a twin mind. In the silence he embodied such grace that he visited these memories without regret. He was glad for their existence. He was happy he had loved. He was glad to know pleasure, its pain, and it's impressions.