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When I was in my '20's, new in town, one of my first flings was with a woman about ten years my senior. She was a musician, actress, teacher and closet exhibitionist. She had a kid, a single mom, and until me had only had sex with two other guys, one she married. She had librarian looks, pretty, built, blond, but she was a true free spirit just dying to get out. The sex just clicked, we all know how that can be, when you're into something that takes on a life of its own, neither of you have a real grasp of why it is so good, but it just is and nobody's complaining. The first time we had sex was atop Mulholland Dr. overlooking the lights of L.A. She was so into it she dropped her jeans before I had even brought my "A" game. We were alone up there of course; no one would ever accuse me of being old-fashioned, but I have humility at least and consideration for those who may not want to be unwilling spectators. But the prospect of an audience didn't make her blush. In fact, it only got her hotter and she was ready to play it out right there in front of the bermuda short wearing family of tourists. I wouldn't, I couldn't, just couldn't see how this would not end in disaster, or at least police intervention, and I would find to my borderline horror and undeniable intrigue that this would be a pattern. We only saw each other for a few months, but it was often during that time that I would be already into it before I realized that without my noticing, she had opened the floor length curtains in my street level apartment. Believe it or not, she was an excellent mother, and very old fashioned in all other ways.
Wow, a conservative reserved single mother with a fetish of getting off when people watch her have sex! That's a good one.
I only wish I had mastered punctuation earlier when I wrote:
I am relieved. You are here.
If only I didn't have tissue on my heel perhaps...
T'would have been a boon, M'lord.
For some reason, this didn't go over very well...
Before I met you, the sun looked like a grape.
Now the sun looks like a mass of flames.
Speaking of flames,
Have you felt the heat of the flames
Of my love for you?
Assuming you have, did it make you uncomfortable?
If not, would you please fan those flames
With the constant reassurance that you also love me?
Although you probably don't love me,
Because nobody ever has, or will.
I have this irrational hope that perhaps you could be the one,
To finally bring a little light to my pathetic life,
To love me for who I am,
And believe in me,
Even though I don't believe in myself,
Because I'm not actually sure if I exist
Or if I'm the figment of someone else's imagination.
Before I met you, the sun looked like a grape.
Now the sun looks like a mass of flames.
Speaking of flames,
Have you felt the heat of the flames
Of my love for you?
Assuming you have, did it make you uncomfortable?
If not, would you please fan those flames
With the constant reassurance that you also love me? Although you probably don't love me, Because nobody ever has, or will.
I have this irrational hope that perhaps you could be the one,
To finally bring a little light to my pathetic life,
To love me for who I am,
And believe in me, Even though I don't believe in myself, Because I'm not actually sure if I exist Or if I'm the figment of someone else's imagination.
Beautifully written, but full of desperation and insecurities. Maybe that's why?
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Makes life more...interesting. It usually burns out quickly, but oh how brightly it DOES burn!
