| now is | once was | came from | heard tell |

7:31 p.m. - 2004-05-26

sofa story

The bar tender came around last night. I knew she would. She sat beside me, as I knew she would, wringing her hands in the indecision of sexual tension. It didn't take long for her to decide, and she kissed me (I knew she would). I kissed her back, smiled against her lips. Let my hands wander slowly. Then I suggested we have another beer- one more before she went home for the night. She was astounded. Why? Why on earth would I send her home? I kept smiling at her, kept kissing her. Because- I don't want to sleep with you tonight. If you're having trouble with that concept, I can stop kissing you till you get it. She didn't believe me. She thought she could convince me. I was pleasant, friendly. Asked her out on a date next week. Told her that sexual tension was good for the soul. She expressed surprised- she hadn't questioned whether or not she could get what she wanted, had assumed my compliance in advance. The notion of sexual exploration without sex seemed so strangely foreign to her. To her, every stroke of my hand or brush of my lips must mean that I was ready to do it all. I wasn't. And not, for once, because of some guilty morality or concern over what people might think. Just because I was enjoying the slow tension between us, enjoying what restraint did to her (controlled but frustrated) body. And to my body, too. She tried all of her tricks on me and I enjoyed every one of them. And smiled politely at her while I smoothed my clothes, pushed her away, and guided her gently towards the door. Bade her a lovely evening, and crawled in to bed with warm electricity in my belly.

- |+

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[She hurts, even from here, she hurts.] - 2005-02-11

[Two weeks and counting] - 2005-01-31

[Dirty] - 2005-01-20

[Here Now] - 2005-01-18