Possibilities

I want you

I want you so bad

I want you

I want you so bad, it's driving me mad

It's driving me mad

I want you to smile when you see me. To take in the sight of me, bare legs disappearing into ankle-high boots, thighs disappearing under a dress that hugs my curves, my hair spilling down my shoulders, my eyes sparkling to see you.

I want you to hold on just a little bit longer when we hug.

I want you to turn the lights down low, pour me a drink, and put on some good music. Nothing romantic – more...sexy, with rumbling beats and slick bass lines that make me want to undulate against someone. To smile when I raise my eyebrow at your choice of music, our wordless glances conveying the possibilities better than talking ever could.

I want you to watch me as we speak, to let your eyes roam over my body and drink it all in. I want to realise halfway through a sentence that you’re not looking at my face – that you’re focusing instead on my legs, following them up to where they melt into shadows under my dress. I want you to lean forward for a better look as my dress rides up when I settle back into my chair and cross my legs. I want to watch you realise that I’m watching you watching me, this delightful little game of cat-and-mouse making a smile dance at the corners of my lips.

And when I rise to set down my glass and stretch to work my stiff muscles, I want you to come up behind me and let your hand rest casually at my waist right as I’m at the height of my languorous reach for the ceiling. I want you to let your hand drift slowly down and inward to slide along my hip bone as I lean back into you in response, my hand rising to brush yours as I let my head rest lightly against your shoulder. I want to feel your warm breath in my ear, trailing down my neck as you bend to caress the hollow above my collarbone with your lips. I want you to elicit a low, slow sigh from me with that touch. I want you to turn me slowly, firmly so that you can pull me into a kiss that’s been a long time coming – a kiss that promises, in all its fierceness and heat, that there is much, much more to come. I want that kiss to make me moan, involuntarily, into your mouth. I want it to make me give in to you.

I should...

I can still taste the vodka on my breath as I type this. I've spent the last half hour aimlessly driving around town instead of going home because there’s something soothing about speeding down a dark road in a closed metal box while music plays loud enough to drown everything else out, leaving you alone with your thoughts. And there’s something even better about being absorbed in those thoughts as a song winds down, with nothing but the whine of the engine in the background telling you that you’re hurtling through the night.

My thoughts were simple, and focused. On you.

One of these days, I really must put everything aside and act on those thoughts.

As you turn to leave after hugging me goodbye, I should grab your hand and say, “stay”.

As you walk away at the end of the night, I should call out, “come back”.

And instead of saying goodbye and filling the space with silly closing lines, about how nice it was or how I’ll see you soon, I really should just drop the pretence, lose the façade, look you in the eye and say something real. Something that makes you stop thinking for a second, something that makes it real for you too.

And in that moment, while we’re both looking at each other, acknowledging that there’s something here, something between us, I should just fuck all the doubts and the what-ifs and the buts and do what I've wanted to for so long: lean in and kiss you.

To Do or Not To Do....or What to Do?

Was just kissed. Don't know what to make of it. Should I go for it, or...not?


That's the basic dilemma.


Alcohol is fuzzing my thought process up.


And he's one of my closest friends.


And this will not turn into a relationship anyhow.


Fuck.

What do I do?

Farewell, dry spell.

The events of the last twenty-four hours have been insane; almost too much to come to terms with. That dry spell I was worried about? Well, it's been broken. And how!

I've known for a while now that I'm bi-curious. The Ex almost had me convinced that I was bisexual (and that that was a bad thing) way back when, the time I licked my best friend's fingers and enjoyed it. Guys have this tendency to get really insecure about bisexual women - and I'm not surprised. The irony is that the girl I spent last night with had recently been broken up with because (amongst other things) the boyfriend couldn't deal with her bisexuality. Today's his birthday, incidentally, so we had to go watch him cutting a cake at midnight. She and I were crazy drunk from the party earlier.

She propositioned; I confessed indecision; she pressed; I remained undecided; she initiated it with a kiss; I didn't resist.

She was really, really fucking good at what she did, making me beg, whine and moan to be touched some more every time she stopped. I'd like to believe that I didn't do so badly myself, but the darkness coupled with my slight hesitation didn't allow me to be as daring as I would have liked to be. But she seemed to like whatever it was that I did manage to do. And I think I surprised her (pleasantly) by bringing out the ropes and toys and lube and using them as I did. It'd been so long since I had indulged in play that it felt really good to go through the motions, make the whispers, elicit moans, punish and bestow as I pleased.

It was fun. It was sexy. It was erotic. It was drunken. It was my first time with another girl. It was great. Fucking. (ha.) Great.

And to remind myself of it, I have a deep, dark red bruise on my neck where she marked me with her mouth.

The Green Fairy, et al.

Man, I love absinthe. Neat. In small quantities. But I love it.
Went out with PB to watch Wolverine today. Nice. Not spectacular - just great. Liked Angels and Demons better - it left more of an impression.
After, we walked up and down M.G. and Brigade Road, sipping absinthe from a lovely little mouthwash bottle. It was so well disguised that I was proud of myself. :)
It also hit us (me, at least!) fairly fast, and I went giggle-crazy. Also started unabashedly leching at the men walking around on the street. Slim pickings tonight, but we were pretty thorough.
Admitted to her that I've had sex. A liberating feeling. Less to pretend about. Good, all in all, to have done that.
Also, meeting her made me feel happy again. I needed a college-style outing - living at home is driving me mad. Also, don't have a room to myself, and that's starting to slice my nerves very thinly and precisely. Argh. Felt good to act my age, and to get out there. Just didn't want to come back here.
Was drunk enough to almost call out to a guy on the road. :P Might have been fun. Who knows.
Then my mum called, followed not too soon after by my dad. Wanted to shoot them both. Sometimes, you just. don't. care. And it becomes very difficult not to give in to that. Managed somehow. Almost fell asleep in the auto back. Wanted to. Didn't give in, eventually.
I'm so fucking desperate to get some action, it's pathetic. I've gotten myself off innumerable times these past few days. Nothing stands out. I need a man. I need to make out. I need to fuck. And, quoting from Californication, I need to screw like I have something I need to get out of my system. (I do.) I want random play. I don't want to know names or phone numbers or to ever meet the guy again. I just want some.
And now I'm thinking about that hot dad. Sigh. I am SUCH a loser.