Invitation

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.

Night

April 19, 2016

Night

I live for the dark,
bathing in the light of the moon
I feel revived, fortified.

Fancy meeting you
on one of my midnight rambles,
the brief consternation of meeting another
mingled with the joy
of discovering a like mind.

We walked together a while.
I wondered if you were real.
You felt like an illusion my sex-starved brain imagined.
I felt an insane urge to take you home.
So I did.

O what a delicious night.

In the morning you were gone
melted away in the light of day
like the lost radiance
of the stars.

 

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