Just A Little NonFiction Fiction Part 2

He started kissing me again but I felt his touch under my day dress and sighed unexpectedly. My chest heaved so loudly it made us both giggle at the same time. I even thought his lips were airbrushed in the photos he sent; they weren't, they were the softest sweetest lips I have kissed since my first kiss to Bobby P by the bridge over twenty years before. I gripped the arm of the chair with my right hand and the front of his shirt with my left. I held on for dear life and almost slipped out of the chair when he caught me. Am I not Mother Nature herself in human hobbit form. Am I not Eve herself with her two beautiful daughters bringing forth all into existence. Don't I possess the foresight to see my match and brace myself for impact. Yeah right! I thought I was capable of stopping time, of bending all to my will. But I guess he wasn't a mere mortal after all because that was not to be the case.

I felt as if I was sleep walking through a dream. The room was swirling. I almost forgot that I liked control. I was his today. All his. He kissed my cheeks and my neck, making me blush purple; each of my breasts slowly, the lower left side of my navel; how he knew that spot I'll never figure that one out; and the inside part of my thighs. The part you keep secret, the part that few touch, the part you didn't realize could quiver on command. He was down there so long I started crying softly. Almost in a whimper, I whispered an "Oh my" to a God I hadn't had a conversation with in years. When he resurfaced and I tilted my halo, regaining my composure long enough to make him bite his lip when I returned the pleasure he gave me. He whispered Mi Morenita so softly to me I could barely hear. He whispered a lot of Spanish, even though I can't tell you what else he said he moved me in ways that a game of Twister couldn't unscramble. Even though I wanted to at first, I couldn't say no.
"Your beautiful Ma!," he said, as he laid me down. He kissed my feet and all I could do was watch him suck the polish from my freshly painted toes. He licked from calf to knee, from knee to thigh and from thigh to belly button. I shivered as my pores opened up. When he finally entered me, my orgasms were instant, expectant and repeated. I stopped thinking, let my guard down and let go. He was so forceful and so gentle simultaneously... but everything else gets blurred out of focus for seemed like an eternity until I found us sweaty and breathing heavy at the edge of the bed; with him half-clothed on his knees and my clothes strewn everywhere. So much time passed and the sky darkened as we stared in each others dark brown eyes, speechless, for what seemed to be forever, in hindsight it was only a few hours, or so of fun, because I checked the clock, I took my towel and wiped the top of his head and his shoulders. I wanted to tell him please "Stay With Me" like that old De Barge tune playing in my head but duty called for both of us and since our time was precious; we spoke about our past like old friends. He finally made his excuses kissed me again softly and all I could do was smile weakly as he walked out my door and just when I thought it was over and I would probably never see his face, he turned, and smiled brightly; that's all I needed...I knew I would see him again and I did.

No Advice On Love

I was once told that if you find arms to hold you at your weakest, eyes that see you at your ugliest, and a heart that will love you at your worst you have found true love! I actually believed that once! Once. It does not exist. It may exist, but I find myself at a constant tug of war with the existence of love. This crap only comes about during this time of year when people get together and eat turkey, talking bullshit about what if's and what not. My peer with whom I find quite interesting lately, though hes always so mentally distant, pointed that out. Mentally distant meaning he only lets me peek into his mind. I can't read him and that's a first. I think I have to research that later.

He said plainly love doesn't exist. Its excuse words to hold someone close because you don't have a clue what to do with them. I don't fully agree but hes becoming one of the most logical people in my little circle and he does have a point. Why else would you tell someone you love them? You want to build bonds, become closer or connect on a deeper level. Why not just show them? Since my new existence calls for an untitled lifestyle, telling someone I love them has a completely different meaning. And since I have been feeling devilish and UN feeling lately, still of a mind to think love is just a chemical reaction from breathing in someones pheromones too deeply! The logical side of me won't think it any other way. But I digress, enough about science and love.

I actually have no regrets about anything I have done lately. I don't control any ones actions but my own. There may be a little rain sometimes but that's not because of me. I'm just a great meteorologist. But I am feeling a bit remorseful that I didn't get to say goodbye to old friends when it was the end. Or I'm a little annoyed when my friends play peek-a-boo with my affections. Maybe I have become a little bitter Wiccan, but I'm not casting any spells or preaching any new foresight. Everyone can fully lay in the beds they make without me giving my two cents. Maybe my constant insomnia has me thinking silly thoughts. Maybe I'm just craving a Bon Bon dipped in peanut butter and banana ice cream with sprinkles or I just need to be fucked to sleep daily; either one of the two would do me fine! This year ending and New Year coming has me thinking a change is coming for 2010. We'll see.

Just A Little Work of Non-Fiction-Fiction

I didn't tell anybody but one that I was staying at the snazzy new hotel downtown when my home was being fumigated. I felt like a bit of privacy for a few days and it was a close easy escape. Plush couches, overdressed, over eager bell boys and the sweet smells of new money and old people littered the shiny white on white vestibule. I wanted a little break from the family. They all figured I stayed with one of my friends who lived close by. They didn't expect that I would use my private time to meet up with a stranger, to do things unthinkable without fear or reason, but I felt by his look, his voice, his picture that I would be alright and I was.

I found him posing on a social networking site, the year before, wearing little more than jeans and a tank top, his bear chest over exposing pretty tattoos that looked like some Mayan tapestry. Up and down his chest, arms, and back were signs of hard time labor but his face showed some left over boyish charm. So we talked. We chatted daily about nothing fancy, nothing provocative; the weather, the fact we were neighbors, our family chaos and triumphs over the status quo. We spoke several times over the phone, we were neighbors after all and then it happened. I, in my matter-of-fact tone, mentioned where I was staying for the next couple of days and to my slightly excited surprise, he lived one block away. We said we'd chat in person, have lunch downstairs. It was no big deal. I gave him a time and he was early but I thought nothing of it. I didn't even dress up. I was on my retreat after all dammit, favorite black V-neck day dress, fuzzy slippers, Clark Kent, glasses and my hair in a bun were my attire. In the back of my mind I knew the fuzzy slippers, and nerd glasses were a bit much so I met him at the elevator in my new slip-ons, sans the librarian look.
I watched him come off the elevator in all his bravado. Even though it was pouring rain outside it was suddenly sunny in the hotel hallway. He was smooth skinned and tattooed, tanned and smiling brightly, like those school boys mama warned me about and told me not to speak to as a child. Dark brown eyes hidden behind funky shades didn't not hide the fact that he was staring behind me as I turned to walk back to my room. I was certain that he saw my lack of underwear, I mean I was on my retreat for crying out loud. When he hugged me hello, running his fingers through my hair, I suddenly felt the urge to dance in the rain; damn, he had me. He ushered me toward my room. We walked the long corridor back to my room exchanging the basic pleasantries, but if you asked me what he said, I couldn't tell you. If you asked me his name I couldn't remember. I was enraptured by his stance, his profile at the door so much so I fumbled the room key twice before I could open it. I could feel the air go out of the room as he entered; I was trapped in an old western right before the gun battle and I was out of ammunition. I felt breathless and weak but I couldn't show it for fear he would see me as an easy target, a lonely forgotten Angel without her wings, instead of the more spiritual Earth Mother I was becoming.

As the rain beat against the window behind me I offered him a chair and some tea while I sat clear across the room with baited breath. He removed his damp shirt and I breathed deeply. He smelled of clean linen and mango. He asked me to move closer. He put his funky shades on my desk, took off his skull rings and sat quietly across from me. As he moved closer, he put is face a good ten centimeters from mine and I could feel his cool sweet breath and hear his heart beat. It was actually beating faster than mine, even though he didn't lose his cool composure in kissing me softly. With the pretenses gone, both of our motives floated to the surface without missing a beat. I was smiling. After I calmed my anxieties and relaxed slightly, knowing that the superhuman in front of me was a mere mortal, I fixed my halo and screwed back on my wings, and studied his features for a bit. He was stroking my hair and messing up all that hard flatiron work I put into it the day before. I was trying to place the tribe, since I studied bone structure and the features of Man in college, as I usually do. I was thinking part Moorish Conquistador, part Han and part Aztec Royal Guard. I was actually closer to the truth than I realized later...anyway...to be continued!

November Blues...

I should be absolutely happy. I'm free from a most tumultuous existence, my positive peers grow in number except for one lost soul (but all sweet Novembers are),and I'm actually doing things for myself. I still don't feel happy. I thought it was because of my pending divorce and all the garbage and mud slinging that goes along with it, but its not. I don't know why I'm feeling unlike myself. Its not the lack of sex my very young maintenance man has my schedule down better than I do. Its not the other person I'm seeing because the actuality of his chaos outweighs my own. We don't really do much but speak of nerd stuff but that's the way we both need that adult connection so I go with the flow. Since I restore classics, I made him my little project but hes a stubborn little Libra. I decided friendship is easier for now. Positive people in his corner will straighten him out.

I feel like Rodin's "The Thinker," man, forever locked in puzzlement, devoid of an answer. I heard my biological clock tic this morning and I smashed it with a hammer, so I know not having a son wasn't the issue. That's my mothers problem. She should of had more children. I just think this permanent single life is taking a toll. I'm starting to feel like I'm supposed to be burning up and transforming but a trip to my mirror shows no change. One day at a time.