April 20, 2016

You know some people walk around and its like they have a bitter pill in their mouth all the time, and they never want to spit it out, they just want to be offended by fucking everything?

Yeah, that was my ex. All I ever wanted from life was to do my job, which I love, by the way, and come home and be with someone who is good to be with. Maybe have a nice vacation sometimes. A few hobbies, camping maybe. And there was my ex, sucking on that bitter pill all the time, spitting out angry comments and imagining slights everywhere. It was exhausting.

Who knows what the original beef was. God, mommy probably loved someone else more, or baby brother got a bigger piece of cake or a fancier bike at Christmas. Who cares? Get over it, seriously.

But that’s neither here nor there. I said “ex” because that’s in the past. Now my life is almost what I want. Almost. The ex is gone because I needed peace. I still love my job, which, if I didn’t mention before is cakes. I make cakes, and they are everything you ever imagined a cake can be. God, I’m good at cakes. If you have a talent and you can make money at it, well, that’s practically heaven.

You may have noticed I keep changing the subject, a problem I have, I guess, and maybe why the ex agreed to a divorce. Which leads me back to what I was going to say. Almost perfect. I even go camping sometimes. But the house is always empty, and it wouldn’t be right to have pets I never see. So I find myself working later and later, taking commissions I wouldn’t normally take, making money I don’t need, but staying busy so I don’t have to go home to that goddamn empty house.

Which leads me to Andy. Andy of the perfect body and bright smile and sunny hair and strong hands. I could go on, but I sense boredom setting in. Andy is a masseuse I met when, after constructing the ultimate dragon cake—seriously, six feet long, breathed fire, the works—for a geek couple’s sci-fi wedding. They were so grateful they gave me Andy, or, well, heh, a session with Andy after I was done with all the heavy lifting. So they were off on their honeymoon, and there I was, naked under a sheet, and Andy came in and my heart stopped and I can’t say it ever started back up again. I’ve lived with it in my throat ever since.

Have you ever met someone and you knew immediately there was a connection? I think everyone has at least once, and if you haven’t, get out there and find it because it’s like being drunk and high and having an orgasm all at once. Every cell in your body lights up, seriously, believe it or not, it’s a real thing. Oh, Andy, Andy, Andy, that was it for me. I couldn’t even speak, and thank God I didn’t have to, I was having a massage.

Aware of every single muscle, tendon, blood vessel, and hair follicle. Also aware of every flaw, bulge, corn, blemish, and stubble. Still, every cell in my body sang. I practically ignited at Andy’s first touch and none of that mattered anymore.

Jeez, you probably think I’m nuts. That my ex was the only person I’d ever had sex with? Not true. I’ve always been active that way. It’s usually a fun, relaxing thing, I don’t want strings attached, and that’s okay. But after Andy? I don’t know if I can ever stand to have another person touch my body again. Ever.

Yet I had no ability to speak, at least not the first time. And yes, I’ve seen Andy since. Or, I’ve made appointments to have a massage, and yes, Andy’s hands have been on my naked body again. God, just not the way I want.

I just don’t know, though, if I’m imagining what I think I am feeling. Sometimes it seems like there is a slow, languorous, lingering in Andy’s touch. Sometimes it seems so sensual, but I can’t tell if its me and my longing for that or actual, real, honest, mutual attraction.

So, I made my play, lame as it is, and I’m waiting to see if Andy shows up. After the massage, I left the payment in an envelope…with a note. It seems so stupid now, but I can’t seem to be coherent when Andy’s around. It was an invitation to dinner…and breakfast. Yeah, I mean, yeah, staying the night. And I said if there was no interest, no harm, no foul, we could just go on the way we’ve been. But it’s almost seven now and I don’t know if I will eat this dinner alone or not. The candles are lit, the music is on, and I’m in my finest jeans and t-shirt. What do you want? I’m a baker not a CEO.

Fuck, I’m an idiot.

Wait. That’s the doorbell.


November 14, 2015


Summer Evening by Edward Hopper

Summer Evening by Edward Hopper

the time we spent before
not so long ago,
your lips were on me,
our sweat mingling
and both of us
all unaware of
the existence of the world,
other than the one
we created together.

Now at the door,
reluctant to say goodbye,
my body still thrums
when I remember.


November 13, 2015


We met at the park,
you came upon me and stopped to talk.
When you saw I had kids
you didn’t freak out and
I smiled.

You never pushed too hard,
but you invited me places.
We met again and again,
and every time
I smiled.

One night, saying goodbye,
you reached into the car
and kissed me.
All the way home, oh, how
I smiled.

One night, at your place,
we explored one another,
and before it went too far
you asked me,
“Are you sure?”
I said yes, and
I smiled.

So many nights together,
you came to mine and tapped
at the bedroom window.
I would fly to the front door
and we would kiss and kiss.
So much love,
so many smiles.

Whatever happened to us?




November 11, 2015


Some certain scent you have
that makes my inner beast appear.
Some warm, melting look you give,
some lingering touch,
makes me want to lose control.

I can contain it if I want to.
I can push down the feelings
and later think upon you
while I ease my suffering
alone and shuddering,
your face on my mind.

I need to know, though,
if you feel what I am feeling.

Does my scent arouse?
Does my watchful gaze stir you?
Does your beast want to
come out and play?
I know
what I want you to say.

Lucky Us

November 10, 2015


I want to be left alone

Lucky us,
living when we do.
Lucky because
we have technology
to make our lives better.

Get yourself a battery-boyfriend!
With someone?
There are prophylactics for everyone!
Seeking a partner?
Dating websites abound!
Want to be left alone?
Greta Garbo marathon!
Need a little sexy boost?
Welcome to my page.





November 8, 2015


So there we are
and the moment comes
when all there is
is sensation.
There is no outer world,
there is simply skin
slicked sweat salt
touch taste kiss
and oh, wow.
Yes, oh yes…


October 24, 2015



So many people, chattering endlessly.
Empty heads and emptier words
hold no charms.
I lift my glass to finish
and there you are.

You seem just as bored as I,
just as ready to flee
this stifling mass of humanity.
I stare, I can’t seem to stop.
How did I not notice you before?

Your eyes leap up
and meet my startled gaze.
And hold me there.
A smile flickers to life
and I return it.

Our eyes are locked,
the sound dies away
and all I can hear, all I can feel
are heartbeats thudding,
pounding in my ears, my body,
as our gaze deepens,

A lift of your brows,
a glance toward the door.
I smile and go to find my coat.




That Night

December 5, 2014

An Idyll - Maurice William Greiffenhagen, 1891

An Idyll – Maurice William Greiffenhagen, 1891

That Night

Remember the night
under the bridge
when you held me
so very close
and opened your coat
so I could be warm
and I could feel
our hearts beating
so hard, so fast,
and then, when
our eyes met
I’ll never forget
how my breath
got caught somewhere
in the middle of my chest
and all of me ached
and yearned with
such sudden fire
it took me by
I looked up again
and met your eyes
I saw your fear
and eagerness
and with a pulse
of something

Yes, that.

Do it again.


February 24, 2014


All night the flower,
petals tightly closed against
depredations of moth and moon
remains firmly resistant to their blandishments.

Once the sun begins to rise,
the caress of light begins to play along the petals,
warming the flower, as your embrace warms me.

Coaxing gently, persistently, the light glows.
soft kisses of butterfly and bee batter delicately,
waiting for the flower to open, for the petals to relax,
just as your kisses cajole and allure and induce and beguile.

The choice belongs to me, as it does the flower.
Whether to open and glory in the sun, stigmas revealed to preferred
visitors, bees, legs fat with pollen, sipping the nectar prepared for them
in exchange for flower-ripening life.

Do they shudder with delight, as I do,
when they are penetrated, plundered, partaken?

Do flowers groan with bliss upon an insect kiss?

Do they wait, impatient, for the next encounter?




February 14, 2014


That moment
when time stands still
and the look in those eyes
seem to melt the world away:
the chill night
the occasional passing car
the sound of leaves rustling in the slight breeze,
all fades until the only real thing
in a spinning world
is the sound of heartbeats
throbbing so fast it seems impossible
and every inch of skin
is desperately sensitive.
A touch sends a thrill
and the look darkens, deepens,
becomes more serious
until beat by pulsing,
bursting beat
lips touch
lightly at first, but then
exquisite pleasure
and only those few inches of sensitive skin,
the lips,
feel like an entire world
because the rest of it is gone,
replaced by this agony
of bliss.

Night Witness by Rafa Alvarez

Night Witness by Rafa Alvarez