Saturday, May 8, 2010

One night stands last a month then End.

I see myself underneath you, a fiery yet yielding force. It turns raw where I end and you begin. Things slip away from me when I'm in this place, but even here I know I should have stayed saying no. That I'd lose some small piece of me, would stayed tucked in your bed, wrapped around your cock.

You visit me at work and bring a friend. We pretend we don't know each other. I ignore you making eyes at him. He has the gift of gab, tries to woe me and I humor him. Somehow I finagle $90 out of you and get away with only showing my tits. Afterwards you take me home and fuck. I can tell by the way you touch me that your jealous. It goes on and on and on. I want to sleep. I know you won't come but your positive it will happen. Alcohol has flooded your senses. In the morning I rub your head letting your hair curl around my fingers. You awaken with a smile, a brand new man. Days later you admit it was a sort of subconscious challenge, you never let me know if I passed but promised it would never happen again.

Because being around you makes me feel domestic I compile a "things to do" list which consists of baking cookies, having breakfast ready when you wake, finding more positive ways to speak, teaching you how to be gentle to me and getting a penis casting kit.

We made love twice, once on top, once on bottom. Made love in the sun, the first time you've seen my body. You admit your age, face turned away from me. It makes me hot. You take me to lunch, buy a sail boat, drop me off at home.

The boat has a romantic name, you say, like me. You show me the original woodwork. I tell you lavender is good for keeping away mold. Above the bed is open air and stars. Hardware knocks against the boat's masts making the Marina sound like a Buddhist Monastery. Comparatively our moans are soft and tender. And ever since you rocked me against your fingers I've been a walking mermaid.

The next day you call, tell me you want to walk my dog with me. You treat me to dinner, but you're mean and aloof. I try, but for the life of me, I can't figure out what you want from me. You take me home, but in the car you won't kiss me goodbye, its just how you feel.

I remember you said, just looking at my face makes you hard, and concluded that I must be in the right business.
I said, maybe I'm just in the right bed.
Silence, is when I realized fifteen years my senior you'll always be afraid.

1 comment:

  1. Forlorn, longing, beautiful. Quite the find for my insomniatic self. Well met. I'm in Ithaca, too.