Second Language by Simon Jacobs

Second Language”



The sound of bodies colliding repeatedly. I was on top.

“Could you lay off for a second, please?”

“Yeah.” I eased out and he rolled over. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re all up in my crevices.”

“I’m what?”

He motioned at his armpits. “You’re digging your hands under my arms. It’s uncomfortable.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, just.”

“Please don’t say the word ‘crevices.’ It sounds obscene.”

“What would you prefer I say, ‘orifices?’”

I snorted. “Based on our position now, I would assume that you wanted me all up in your orifices. Orifices, you know, like”—the word ‘holes’ disgusted me, especially applied to sex—“pits.”

“Exactly. Like arm-pits.”

“I mean holes. Crevices are more like cracks or valleys.”

“Like this?” He brought his arm down to his side. “Like this, see? Something you can slide down into.”

“Okay, fine,” I said, feeling my ardor about to dim. “Can we get back to this please?”

He gave an exasperated sigh and rolled back over. I held him with one hand gripping beneath his armpit, the other planted on the floor, and picked up where I’d left off.

“Watch it. The crevices.”

I let him go and we continued hands-free, hardly touching.