He's out of town on business this week, so I try to leave him something in our secret email account, you know, so he's not lonely..........
*************************************************************************************
In my car, on the floorboard of the driver's seat, is a card and a small box. I leave them where they are as I leave work, until I stop to get gas. While the gas is pumping, I open the card. There's a room key in it. The card holds no sentimental wishes, no message except some instructions. Take the whole day off work, show up in this room at this time, and bring the gift. I open the box, and inside is a beautiful red scarf. Satin, or something like it.
I follow my instructions, and for extra credit, my bra matches the scarf. I'm wearing a red sweater and my black skirt, with thigh high stockings and black heels. When I open the door to the room, I'm sure I'm alone. The door shuts behind me, and I head towards the bed to sit down. I take no more than three steps before you grab me from me behind, firmly but also gently. I gasp, drawing breath in to shriek, and you cover my mouth, again, gently. I exhale, and you loosen your grip. You ask me where the scarf is. I tell you it's in my purse. You take my purse off my shoulder, reach in and take the scarf out of it's box. The next thing I know, you're tying it around my eyes. When you've secured it, you turn me around, and I open my mouth to protest. You tell me it won't do me any good, that I've had long enough to trust you this much, that with all the other risk we've taken, this is insignificant. You ask me if I've ever regretted trusting you before. I haven't.
You lead me to the bed and take my sweater off. This distracts you from your objective for a few moments; you kiss me and run your large, rough hands over my bra and abdomen, before lifting each breast out, one at a time, for a quick and gentle bite before taking my bra off completely. You grasp my wrists in one of your hands and stretch my arms out above my head, laying me back on the bed. You tell me to stay still while you bind my wrists together with something and attach it somehow to the bed. You check all the knots to make sure they're secure, and you make sure there's some slack whatever you've tied me up with, but not much.
I can tell that you've laid beside me on the bed. You're whispering in my ear, asking me if I'm comfortable, asking me if I'm nervous. The answer to both questions is yes. You run just your fingertips down my neck, my collarbone, over my breasts and nipples, down my abdomen, over my hip bones, down the tops of my thighs, stopping at the knee and running back up the insides of each thigh, so close, achingly close, and back up to my stomach again. You kiss me again, and this kiss is intense, searching. You run your hand over my nipples, which are now like little rocks, until you break the kiss and your hand settles on one nipple, your mouth on the other. I moan, softly, and so you continue, alternating, until I start to shudder slightly. You're kissing me again, and your hand runs down my abdomen, your entire open palm, until it finally settles between my legs. You run one finger up the length of me, discovering how incredibly wet this game has made me already. I gasp, and you do this for what seems like forever.
I can only imagine you propped up on your elbow, watching me. You slip a finger inside me, leaving your open palm against my clit. You kiss my lips, gently, my ears and neck while your hand rocks against me. As soon as I start moving my hips against your hand, you stop. I start to protest, but you whisper to me to be patient as you start to kiss me again. Your lips leave mine and I feel them on my chin, on my throat, on my chest, pausing for a minute on each nipple, on my stomach, further and further down, closer and closer. You skip down to the inside of my thighs, right down by my knees, up one leg and down the other, and back up again. I feel you putting my legs over your shoulders. I wish I could watch, but I can't- I can only lie back and feel your rough hands on my body, your lips and tongue lapping at me, wet, swollen, aching..........
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Stranger
He had visited the office briefly once before. We talked a little, mostly my asking him when he was coming back to complete his project and what he was going to need. He mentioned that he would be here for two weeks when he came back- it's very unusual for corporate folks to spend weekends away from home. I told him that not to sit around by himself, that there plenty of people who would be happy to take him out on the town. I gave him my card.
When he arrived back in town, he had a small crew with him. They took over the conference room- it was some kind of geek heaven in there. Wall to wall computers, and whenever I went to check on him, either to ask him a legitimate question about the project or just to put my hand on his shoulder and ask him if he needed anything, he was always working on three computers. At once. He was friendly and funny and we chatted here and there. I came to the realization that the conference room was a really good place to escape from my soul-sucking coworkers, and the scenery was unsurpassed.
My counterpart decided that we needed to take him out on Friday night and get him drunk. I heartily agreed. There was no reason to think that I was signing up for anything more than a late night in a local bar. I made a point of not placing too much importance on the outing. M is the president of my fan club, and he noticed my fascination with this guy. When he told me that he wasn't worried about me getting home because I would probably spend the night in the guy's room, I figured he was teasing me about my fast developing crush. I had no idea it was a comment on where the guy stood.
Friday morning I got up and threw on my favorite low cut jeans and my favorite low cut top. When I lean over in this shirt, you have a clear view of my belly button. I got into the office and puttered around with my usual morning routine. When he came out of the conference room (which is right outside my office), I asked him if he had corrected an issue he had with my laptop the day before. He came around the end of my desk and stood behind me, giving me directions. At the time, I had no idea that he was looking down my shirt. I was just frustrated because he was walking me through all this complicated crap and I was struggling to keep up, being on my first cup of coffee and all. I wouldn't realize until later on that he had found about forty excuses through the day to come stand behind me at my desk.
The day was hectic and frustrating. Five o clock couldn't come fast enough. When it did, I shut down, locked up and waited. And waited. He was in the conference room, on his cell phone, yelling. My coworker and I were hesitant to interrupt his argument, so we waited in the lobby. I couldn't hear him screaming anymore, so I peeked in the window, caught his eye, and stuck my tongue out at him. He grinned and wrapped up his phone call.
We beat him to the bar by nearing thirty minutes. My coworker had taken the best seat at the table, of course, pinning me into the corner where no one could sit next to me. We were on our second drinks when he showed up. A few other friends joined us shortly afterward, and we all drank and talked and ate and drank some more. I was beginning to think the night was a lost cause when he started ordering shots along with his beers. I took the opportunity to put his car keys in my purse. My coworker made the mistake of having a drunken, loud conversation about some boring thing with the guy on the other side of me. I made him switch chairs. He grumbled a little when I asked, so I leaned over and hissed "don't be an ass!". He let it go.
This put me right next to him, and we picked up the conversation we were having when we were rudely interrupted. I had been touching him, repeatedly, all week long. A light touch on his arm, putting my hand on his back or shoulder, maybe a little pat or a rub if he were particularly frustrated. He hadn't laid a finger on me until I switched chairs, and then suddenly everything he said was punctuated by a hand on my knee. At one point I crossed my legs and rested my foot against his leg. We continued talking about our careers, about money and life and politics. We danced in our chairs, leaning in, leaning back, touching each other for effect. We kept drinking. He went to the bathroom and I wrote my cell number on the back of a business card and put it in the back pocket of my jeans.
At some point well into the night, my coworker's friends left for the night. I turned and looked at my colleague. He was pretty trashed. His hair was mussed and he was irritated and jealous of the little chat I'd been having. He looked straight at the guy and said "Think we could get any pussy out of this bar?". I protested- heavily. He rambled on about some other thing for a few minutes, and upon enduring my pointed looks, made his exit.
The guy paid the tab and we continued our conversation. He made comments about various girls coming in and out of the bar, offering critiques of their bodies and outfits. He was pretty harsh, but nicer than I would have been. At this point, I had absolutely no idea where this guy's head was at. Talk turned to women and men, love, marriage and sex. He said he wasn't sure if he would ever get married. I told him I didn't blame him. We talked about women who invite attention and then recoil when they're approached. I told him that a woman knows what she's doing when she gets dressed in the morning, and that if it garners her some unwanted attention, she should respond with the right subtle signals, and the guy should respect that. It was at this point that he mentioned that he had looked down my shirt about forty times. He freaked out when he realized he didn't have his keys. I told him they were in my purse. He said he didn't even see me put them there, and we continued our conversation. We talked about casual sex.
I explained that women can't engage in sex without some kind of emotional connection, but that women who are realistic about it can handle that. He wasn't buying it. I told him a story from my high school days, when I had a chance to sleep with a huge crush of mine, but had no delusions that anything would come of it. I admitted that it hurt, but that it was totally worth it. He laughed heartily, a little shocked, I think. I told him that the biggest problem about the whole thing was that there was no way to tell if the sex was worth it until after you did it. He reacted with mock horror. We continued discussing relationships and monogamy until the staff started putting the chairs up on the tables.
We got up to leave and I headed towards my car. He went to walk off to his car and realized I had his keys. I told him that he'd just have to walk me to my car, and really, that's how it's done here anyway. I was a little surprised, actually, that I had to mention it. A local boy wouldn't have dreamed of not seeing me to my car.
I got the car unlocked, sat my purse down in my seat and handed him his keys. We chatted for a few minutes about the local attractions, and he said that he didn't have anyone to show him around. I said that I didn't have any way to get in touch with him- no cell number, no hotel information. He said "I could give you my cell phone number...". I leaned up against the car and slipped my card out of my pocket. "Or I could give you mine." He grinned, and said asked when I could show him around. "I have stuff to do on Saturday, but I might be able to get away on Sunday, if you give me a call." He said he would.
He thanked me for taking him out. I cocked my head. "It was my pleasure." He stepped forward and held his arms out for a hug. I stepped into his embrace and he swept me into a long, sweet kiss. He drew back to take a breath. "We should have left the bar earlier", I whispered. He leaned his forehead against mine. "Yes, we should have". He kissed me again. "Thank God you're here for another week". He murmured something, and stepped around the other side of the car. Now he was leaning up against it. He pulled me into him and kissed me. I ran my hand down his chest as he felt the curve of my waist and hip. I sucked on his lower lip a little, and his hand slid around to grab my ass and pull me harder against him. I felt his cock twitch in his pants. He said "I have to leave before I can't". I understood. He walked past my open car door and turned around to kiss me again. We touched our foreheads together again and said goodnight.
Of course, 4000 people showed up the next week, and everything went wrong, and things were crazy, and we never did get around to what we meant to........
-August 2008
When he arrived back in town, he had a small crew with him. They took over the conference room- it was some kind of geek heaven in there. Wall to wall computers, and whenever I went to check on him, either to ask him a legitimate question about the project or just to put my hand on his shoulder and ask him if he needed anything, he was always working on three computers. At once. He was friendly and funny and we chatted here and there. I came to the realization that the conference room was a really good place to escape from my soul-sucking coworkers, and the scenery was unsurpassed.
My counterpart decided that we needed to take him out on Friday night and get him drunk. I heartily agreed. There was no reason to think that I was signing up for anything more than a late night in a local bar. I made a point of not placing too much importance on the outing. M is the president of my fan club, and he noticed my fascination with this guy. When he told me that he wasn't worried about me getting home because I would probably spend the night in the guy's room, I figured he was teasing me about my fast developing crush. I had no idea it was a comment on where the guy stood.
Friday morning I got up and threw on my favorite low cut jeans and my favorite low cut top. When I lean over in this shirt, you have a clear view of my belly button. I got into the office and puttered around with my usual morning routine. When he came out of the conference room (which is right outside my office), I asked him if he had corrected an issue he had with my laptop the day before. He came around the end of my desk and stood behind me, giving me directions. At the time, I had no idea that he was looking down my shirt. I was just frustrated because he was walking me through all this complicated crap and I was struggling to keep up, being on my first cup of coffee and all. I wouldn't realize until later on that he had found about forty excuses through the day to come stand behind me at my desk.
The day was hectic and frustrating. Five o clock couldn't come fast enough. When it did, I shut down, locked up and waited. And waited. He was in the conference room, on his cell phone, yelling. My coworker and I were hesitant to interrupt his argument, so we waited in the lobby. I couldn't hear him screaming anymore, so I peeked in the window, caught his eye, and stuck my tongue out at him. He grinned and wrapped up his phone call.
We beat him to the bar by nearing thirty minutes. My coworker had taken the best seat at the table, of course, pinning me into the corner where no one could sit next to me. We were on our second drinks when he showed up. A few other friends joined us shortly afterward, and we all drank and talked and ate and drank some more. I was beginning to think the night was a lost cause when he started ordering shots along with his beers. I took the opportunity to put his car keys in my purse. My coworker made the mistake of having a drunken, loud conversation about some boring thing with the guy on the other side of me. I made him switch chairs. He grumbled a little when I asked, so I leaned over and hissed "don't be an ass!". He let it go.
This put me right next to him, and we picked up the conversation we were having when we were rudely interrupted. I had been touching him, repeatedly, all week long. A light touch on his arm, putting my hand on his back or shoulder, maybe a little pat or a rub if he were particularly frustrated. He hadn't laid a finger on me until I switched chairs, and then suddenly everything he said was punctuated by a hand on my knee. At one point I crossed my legs and rested my foot against his leg. We continued talking about our careers, about money and life and politics. We danced in our chairs, leaning in, leaning back, touching each other for effect. We kept drinking. He went to the bathroom and I wrote my cell number on the back of a business card and put it in the back pocket of my jeans.
At some point well into the night, my coworker's friends left for the night. I turned and looked at my colleague. He was pretty trashed. His hair was mussed and he was irritated and jealous of the little chat I'd been having. He looked straight at the guy and said "Think we could get any pussy out of this bar?". I protested- heavily. He rambled on about some other thing for a few minutes, and upon enduring my pointed looks, made his exit.
The guy paid the tab and we continued our conversation. He made comments about various girls coming in and out of the bar, offering critiques of their bodies and outfits. He was pretty harsh, but nicer than I would have been. At this point, I had absolutely no idea where this guy's head was at. Talk turned to women and men, love, marriage and sex. He said he wasn't sure if he would ever get married. I told him I didn't blame him. We talked about women who invite attention and then recoil when they're approached. I told him that a woman knows what she's doing when she gets dressed in the morning, and that if it garners her some unwanted attention, she should respond with the right subtle signals, and the guy should respect that. It was at this point that he mentioned that he had looked down my shirt about forty times. He freaked out when he realized he didn't have his keys. I told him they were in my purse. He said he didn't even see me put them there, and we continued our conversation. We talked about casual sex.
I explained that women can't engage in sex without some kind of emotional connection, but that women who are realistic about it can handle that. He wasn't buying it. I told him a story from my high school days, when I had a chance to sleep with a huge crush of mine, but had no delusions that anything would come of it. I admitted that it hurt, but that it was totally worth it. He laughed heartily, a little shocked, I think. I told him that the biggest problem about the whole thing was that there was no way to tell if the sex was worth it until after you did it. He reacted with mock horror. We continued discussing relationships and monogamy until the staff started putting the chairs up on the tables.
We got up to leave and I headed towards my car. He went to walk off to his car and realized I had his keys. I told him that he'd just have to walk me to my car, and really, that's how it's done here anyway. I was a little surprised, actually, that I had to mention it. A local boy wouldn't have dreamed of not seeing me to my car.
I got the car unlocked, sat my purse down in my seat and handed him his keys. We chatted for a few minutes about the local attractions, and he said that he didn't have anyone to show him around. I said that I didn't have any way to get in touch with him- no cell number, no hotel information. He said "I could give you my cell phone number...". I leaned up against the car and slipped my card out of my pocket. "Or I could give you mine." He grinned, and said asked when I could show him around. "I have stuff to do on Saturday, but I might be able to get away on Sunday, if you give me a call." He said he would.
He thanked me for taking him out. I cocked my head. "It was my pleasure." He stepped forward and held his arms out for a hug. I stepped into his embrace and he swept me into a long, sweet kiss. He drew back to take a breath. "We should have left the bar earlier", I whispered. He leaned his forehead against mine. "Yes, we should have". He kissed me again. "Thank God you're here for another week". He murmured something, and stepped around the other side of the car. Now he was leaning up against it. He pulled me into him and kissed me. I ran my hand down his chest as he felt the curve of my waist and hip. I sucked on his lower lip a little, and his hand slid around to grab my ass and pull me harder against him. I felt his cock twitch in his pants. He said "I have to leave before I can't". I understood. He walked past my open car door and turned around to kiss me again. We touched our foreheads together again and said goodnight.
Of course, 4000 people showed up the next week, and everything went wrong, and things were crazy, and we never did get around to what we meant to........
-August 2008
After the Unfortunate Incident
His voice is like silk, pouring through the building from his desk to mine. He's speaking to a customer, about something business related, but as hard as I try not to, I hear him as if he is speaking to me. He has my rapt attention despite the clutter on my desk, screaming for attention. There is a natural pause in his end of the conversation, and I sigh, a deep troubled sigh. What has my life come to? Married eight years and in a better job than I deserve, and yet I'm riding the line of ruining both just to hear that silken voice directed at me. I close my eyes to attempt to focus on my work, my career, my marriage, and all I see is him. Staring back at me.
We've not spoken all day, and that makes me so sad. Monday I figured he wanted nothing to do with me, and so I left him be. When he came to check on me, he cast my whole day in sunlight. Yesterday it was his turn to be crabby and quiet and avoid me, so I checked on him, and he melted like so much butter. I floated through the afternoon- until things went bad. I can't decide if it's heartbreaking or amusing that we're too busy being accused of things we didn't do to get close to doing the things we're accused of. It scares me- I'm not a bad person, I don't do bad things, and he makes me feel like I never truly understood morality or love or trouble before. He make things gray.
I spend a lot of time wondering if he's stringing me along, using me to feed his ego, laughing behind my back at the remote idea that he would find me attractive. His hungry gazes, his words dripping with subtext- they make me feel like I'm the most beautiful creature that ever graced the earth and I should be spending my days writhing in satin and rose petals. One minute I feel like a silly schoolgirl, ruining my life for some childish crush, and the next moment he's emailing me, or brushing my hip with his hand as he passes by, and before I can talk myself out of it, I'm gone again. Gone to that world where only he and I exist, and my breath becomes ragged and I have trouble seeing clearly.
What I wouldn't do for a little of that hope this afternoon. It's for the better; I know that- I know that using one romance to kill another is ill-advised. I know that I'm risking my reputation and my personal integrity. But when he touches me, when he speaks my name, I cease caring about any of that. I would destroy everything I have for that touch. The draw is so compelling that I can't see anything but his eyes, his face- I can't think of anything but breathing his breath and listening to his heart beat in her chest. The intensity of my desire frightens me, and that only heightens the excitement, until I cannot breathe and I cease to function in any other manner than pursuing what I can't live without.
Hearing him laugh and play with other people is unbearable. It's my fault that I can't get that kind of attention anymore; it only draws scrutiny and rumors we can no longer withstand. It is still unbearable. My heart breaks a little with every laugh, every comment, and those beautiful eyes shining with laughter and happiness directed at someone else. Facing the reality of the mess I've made- it even ruins my fantasies. Those wonderful, all-consuming daydreams that have been the only thing keeping me going- that feeling- I've not felt it in so long- the butterflies, the outright longing- I don't own that anymore. I pulled my dreams into the daylight and they blew about like dust, scattering everywhere, and shining in the light as they landed, spread so thin that even I can't put them back together.
I've thought we'd gotten to that point before; and then he would offer some encouragement, and I rose like a phoenix from the ashes- became real again, as if I were the Velveteen Rabbit and he was the little boy whose love gave things new life. That sounds so degrading, so humiliating- to compare a grown woman with a love-worn stuffed animal. That isn't how it feels. My heart swells with so much hope and desire that I can't afford rational or self-protective thought- I'm drowned in my undeniable feelings for this man. There are moments of embarrassment, regret, guilt. Those three o'clock in the morning panics, of which I'm all too familiar these days, but they fade with the sunrise, like dew drying on the grass, and when they're gone, I can hardly tell they were ever there.
We've not spoken all day, and that makes me so sad. Monday I figured he wanted nothing to do with me, and so I left him be. When he came to check on me, he cast my whole day in sunlight. Yesterday it was his turn to be crabby and quiet and avoid me, so I checked on him, and he melted like so much butter. I floated through the afternoon- until things went bad. I can't decide if it's heartbreaking or amusing that we're too busy being accused of things we didn't do to get close to doing the things we're accused of. It scares me- I'm not a bad person, I don't do bad things, and he makes me feel like I never truly understood morality or love or trouble before. He make things gray.
I spend a lot of time wondering if he's stringing me along, using me to feed his ego, laughing behind my back at the remote idea that he would find me attractive. His hungry gazes, his words dripping with subtext- they make me feel like I'm the most beautiful creature that ever graced the earth and I should be spending my days writhing in satin and rose petals. One minute I feel like a silly schoolgirl, ruining my life for some childish crush, and the next moment he's emailing me, or brushing my hip with his hand as he passes by, and before I can talk myself out of it, I'm gone again. Gone to that world where only he and I exist, and my breath becomes ragged and I have trouble seeing clearly.
What I wouldn't do for a little of that hope this afternoon. It's for the better; I know that- I know that using one romance to kill another is ill-advised. I know that I'm risking my reputation and my personal integrity. But when he touches me, when he speaks my name, I cease caring about any of that. I would destroy everything I have for that touch. The draw is so compelling that I can't see anything but his eyes, his face- I can't think of anything but breathing his breath and listening to his heart beat in her chest. The intensity of my desire frightens me, and that only heightens the excitement, until I cannot breathe and I cease to function in any other manner than pursuing what I can't live without.
Hearing him laugh and play with other people is unbearable. It's my fault that I can't get that kind of attention anymore; it only draws scrutiny and rumors we can no longer withstand. It is still unbearable. My heart breaks a little with every laugh, every comment, and those beautiful eyes shining with laughter and happiness directed at someone else. Facing the reality of the mess I've made- it even ruins my fantasies. Those wonderful, all-consuming daydreams that have been the only thing keeping me going- that feeling- I've not felt it in so long- the butterflies, the outright longing- I don't own that anymore. I pulled my dreams into the daylight and they blew about like dust, scattering everywhere, and shining in the light as they landed, spread so thin that even I can't put them back together.
I've thought we'd gotten to that point before; and then he would offer some encouragement, and I rose like a phoenix from the ashes- became real again, as if I were the Velveteen Rabbit and he was the little boy whose love gave things new life. That sounds so degrading, so humiliating- to compare a grown woman with a love-worn stuffed animal. That isn't how it feels. My heart swells with so much hope and desire that I can't afford rational or self-protective thought- I'm drowned in my undeniable feelings for this man. There are moments of embarrassment, regret, guilt. Those three o'clock in the morning panics, of which I'm all too familiar these days, but they fade with the sunrise, like dew drying on the grass, and when they're gone, I can hardly tell they were ever there.
-Written May 2008
The Most Ill-Advised Affair Known To Man
There are a whole host of adultery blogs on the net, and they all at some point publish their "rules". These "rules" are supposed to keep people from getting hurt, keep people from getting caught, keep people from getting the clap, etc. On average, they all advise against every aspect of my situation. Behold:
- I have a huge crush on this guy. I have for a very, very long time. It was, at one point, one of those sweet daydream, giggly, think about but never truly consider cause I'm married type of crushes. I harbor no illusions of running off into the sunset together, but I have much more than a sexual interest.
- We work together.
- His wife is crazy. (She's about as crazy as I would be if I thought my husband were cheating on me, back when I still gave a shit what he did.)
- My husband has the potential to kill him in a psychotic rage if he ever figures it out.
- My friends at work know about this crush of mine and have warned me countless times to be careful to avoid the exact situation I'm in today....... if they find out, I will lose them too.
- Nearly all of our shenanigans take place during the business day.
- He's made it absolutely crystal clear that he wants no emotional relationship, and I've agreed. (they like it when you agree with the stupid shit they say)
- Our entanglement came about *after* people started gossiping about us. Think "Let's Give Them Something To Talk About", except that really isn't our goal.
How Did This Happen?
I was a normal girl, with a normal life, a normal husband, a normal job, a normal house. Normal, normal, normal. I've never been the "sexy" type. I am occasionally sexy, but have been told that I have this "innocence" about me. Maybe it's the bun I wear almost every day. Who knows. My point here? I've never been "that girl"........
My life went to hell, oh, about a year ago. Not going to get into it here, because this blog and the content I'll be posting here are my escape from unpaid bills, foreclosure notices, and my unhealthy marriage. Judge if you want. I would have, oh, about a year ago. If you still grasp tightly to black and white morality because it makes you feel more secure, more invincible, better than- then more power to you. It's just that I've lost that luxury.
So when I got an offer I couldn't resist, I jumped on him, I mean, it.
And, I maybe, might have met someone who was in town visiting that I may or may not ever seen again, and we might have made out, and if we do ever see each other again, it might go biblical.
Yes, I've turned into a tart, a whore, a harlot. A cocotte. Sometimes I feel a little bit guilty, but mostly? I just want more.
coco
My life went to hell, oh, about a year ago. Not going to get into it here, because this blog and the content I'll be posting here are my escape from unpaid bills, foreclosure notices, and my unhealthy marriage. Judge if you want. I would have, oh, about a year ago. If you still grasp tightly to black and white morality because it makes you feel more secure, more invincible, better than- then more power to you. It's just that I've lost that luxury.
So when I got an offer I couldn't resist, I jumped on him, I mean, it.
And, I maybe, might have met someone who was in town visiting that I may or may not ever seen again, and we might have made out, and if we do ever see each other again, it might go biblical.
Yes, I've turned into a tart, a whore, a harlot. A cocotte. Sometimes I feel a little bit guilty, but mostly? I just want more.
coco
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