indifferent fantasy, the dream

she opened up to me, and she opened up to me. i expected flow’ering of love and such but instead got words of foul stench and fuck fuck fuck dirrrrty disgust. that made me harder and made me grin with a smeared red and rotten mouth.

the next morning i woke wrapped in stained sheets and stained but indifferent memory. she brought me breakfast with welt marks on her ass and rope burns on her wrists

, but she kissed me gently and strummed her fingers on my bare chest as i ate. she told me she loved me. that made me harder and made me grin with a greased butter and bacon mouth.

fuck the saints

I loved those vinyl jazz mornings, after a night of leisure and being lost. From where I’d wake, I’d watch her cook and move her ass in time with Mr Paganini. I couldn’t turn away from the sway in her ‘sing it’, and the jiggle in her scat; it was my favourite thing in the world. She’d make me forget about all the sounds of the city.

Should I have expected more when I prayed to all the Saints to spare her? More than daggers and loss of faith, surely. I mourned for a thousand nights when she left us. It is only with my drunkard friends that I can tranquilize my sorrow; a welcome adjournment from my bitter harbor.

I try to write, but every word has tears of ink. And it’s crap. All of it.

The traffic is driving me fucking insane.

the morning after beautiful her

Was it a dream? I dared not open my eyes! I wanted to keep this memory in my mind forever. I turned towards her, and her perfume filled my senses. The whole of my being smiled.

I had wished for this but had not imagined it would turn out so perfectly. She was there with me and it is wonderful. As I looked over to where she lay, I realised that this was a perfect moment. This was how I’d like to remember her, sleeping peacefully. She has beautiful eyes you know. I can’t describe to you how buoyant and beautiful they are. And how those eyes made me feel the first time we met. It was at the gym. As she stepped onto the treadmill next to mine, her hello was met with my smile. It was all I could muster! I was smitten from that moment on. After our workout, I summoned up the courage to speak with her, walked her to her car and offered to buy her coffee. I can’t imagine why she accepted!

This very moment, right now, consumes all of my hopes, memories and fears. The rise and fall of her breast as she breathes. There is no emotion on her face. She is more beautiful than ever. Well, except when she laughs! God has blessed me this day and delivered me joy. I am bursting! I poke my toe into her thigh. I want to wake her, hold her, kiss her! I poke again and she stirs. I say her name. Her brow furrows and her hips shift. I poke her again. I see her smile now as her eyes begin to open.

“If you’re going to wake me, you’ve had better made me breakfast.”
I leaned over and kissed her. “Coming right up!”
Jumping out of bed I raced into the kitchen. “Pancakes and coffee?”
“Perfect. I’ll run a shower and be right out!”
Perfect? Yes it certainly is.

Her arms wrapped around my waist as I poured her latte.
She kissed my neck. She was fabulous and warm from the shower. “Good morning.”
I turned to face her. “Good morning yourself.”
We stood in each others arms, not knowing what else to say. But smiles and laughter are infectious. We stood there giggling like school children.
“I enjoyed last night.”
“Me too, me too.”
“Come on, lets eat. Pancakes are getting cold

We sat and ate. The fact that she was in my kitchen, eating breakfast with me was one thing. But knowing that last night was the first time she’d been with a woman made it even more special. She was even more attractive to me now.

I put down my fork, looked over to her and smiled.
“What is it?” she smiled back.
“I’m just wondering what your husband would think if he knew you were here.”
She laughed. “Well you can keep wondering because he’s never going to know!”

my Anais

Anais,

It was everything and nothing like I imagined it would be. Being both friends and strangers, our script was uncertain and yet we both read it the same. For an instant it felt awkward but we needn’t have hurried. While the touch of your skin was what I craved, it is the honesty with which we spoke afterwards that is most cherished to me this morning. What we shared last night revealed to me what I knew was there even before we’d met. Our intimacy is not to be built on passion, but on spoken words. This chemistry is not of touch but of the mind and soul. Your heart warmed mine and for this I thank you.

Meet me in the kitchen, I’ve made us pancakes and coffee.

Marc