onlysweetpea
Bluelighter
mmmmmm....
sma's office dinner was lovely, the food was amazing. i stumbled all the way home and chatted with carleen for a little before passing out at 12:30.
phone-a-rrring.
I see it's James, i don't get it in time. I roll over and try to go back to sleep. I can't for some reason. I lay in bed for a little and think about him.
2:30AM
phone-a-rrrrring. I answer cause I'm wide awake. It was James.
this time around his father's in the hospital, not as serious as his mother, but i can hear it in his voice that he's disturbed by the turn of events in his life these past weeks. I end up shambling down Fulton and arrive at his place around 3:00AM.
It was freezing out and my hands were ice cold.
I step inside and we head up the stairs to his apartment, me leading the way. He followed behind me with his hands on my hips, burrying his face in my back.
We enter his dark apt. and crawl into bed naked curling around each other to keep warm. I place my cold cold hands on his back and he shudders. We laugh as he tries to warm them, pulling the covers all the way over our heads like little kids camping, and we talk.
And we talk.
And we talk some more. About levels of kinky, what we would and wouldn't do, what we haven't done but want to. About friends who have OD'd, girlfriends/boyfriends who have either tried to or successfully committed suicide. About family, the essence of family, about my issues with naked feet, about how soft my skin, how long his body, how curvy I am, how my favorite part of him is the section where his bellybutton falls and the surrounding areas. I trace my hands from his pierced belly button off to the right and off to the left, letting my hands follow the arch around like a little waterfall off of his narrow hips to his back.
"I'd like to see you more often than not," he says.
"It's just a question of schedules and time." I answer.
"I'm willing to make the time," he said. "But it usually ends up being-"
We pause and look at each other and say simultaneously, "3:00 AM."
3AM and I’m walking down Fulton St. and the city is a quiet I haven’t experienced in a long time. 3AM and I am wondering why I was heading down to see him. Common sense would tell you to sleep. Sleep, little grasshopper, you were at the gym at 6AM and you’ve had a long day. But Common Sense would also tell you, Go, little grasshopper, because you’ve missed him while he was away, and it’s okay to miss him.
3AM and I relive a conversation we had about women in general.
“Skinny girls,” he scoffed. “Too skinny. Sometimes it’s so sad. Taking them to dinner is horrible. It’s painful to see how much they truly disgust their salad, but they eat it anyway. Why would anyone deny themselves something they wanted?”
Why would anyone deny themselves something they wanted?
Because outside forces lead you to believe otherwise.
I shut off the voices of most others a long time ago. Too many opinions cloud your head and you lose your own somewhere in the shuffle of thoughts, thinking, “What if so-and-so is right? Or so-and-so could be right as well. Or…” You sorta forget what you yourself believes to be the truth.
3AM and the world is asleep, and nothing but the sound of my feet crunching winter leaves on the sidewalk leading to his door and the only voice I hear, not one of common sense, or those opinions of friends and the like, is my own telling myself that it’s finally okay to stop holding back and taking score to “protect” myself from reliving the misery of the past summer.
Because I trust him and I believe he deserves to be believed in.
sma's office dinner was lovely, the food was amazing. i stumbled all the way home and chatted with carleen for a little before passing out at 12:30.
phone-a-rrring.
I see it's James, i don't get it in time. I roll over and try to go back to sleep. I can't for some reason. I lay in bed for a little and think about him.
2:30AM
phone-a-rrrrring. I answer cause I'm wide awake. It was James.
this time around his father's in the hospital, not as serious as his mother, but i can hear it in his voice that he's disturbed by the turn of events in his life these past weeks. I end up shambling down Fulton and arrive at his place around 3:00AM.
It was freezing out and my hands were ice cold.
I step inside and we head up the stairs to his apartment, me leading the way. He followed behind me with his hands on my hips, burrying his face in my back.
We enter his dark apt. and crawl into bed naked curling around each other to keep warm. I place my cold cold hands on his back and he shudders. We laugh as he tries to warm them, pulling the covers all the way over our heads like little kids camping, and we talk.
And we talk.
And we talk some more. About levels of kinky, what we would and wouldn't do, what we haven't done but want to. About friends who have OD'd, girlfriends/boyfriends who have either tried to or successfully committed suicide. About family, the essence of family, about my issues with naked feet, about how soft my skin, how long his body, how curvy I am, how my favorite part of him is the section where his bellybutton falls and the surrounding areas. I trace my hands from his pierced belly button off to the right and off to the left, letting my hands follow the arch around like a little waterfall off of his narrow hips to his back.
"I'd like to see you more often than not," he says.
"It's just a question of schedules and time." I answer.
"I'm willing to make the time," he said. "But it usually ends up being-"
We pause and look at each other and say simultaneously, "3:00 AM."
3AM and I’m walking down Fulton St. and the city is a quiet I haven’t experienced in a long time. 3AM and I am wondering why I was heading down to see him. Common sense would tell you to sleep. Sleep, little grasshopper, you were at the gym at 6AM and you’ve had a long day. But Common Sense would also tell you, Go, little grasshopper, because you’ve missed him while he was away, and it’s okay to miss him.
3AM and I relive a conversation we had about women in general.
“Skinny girls,” he scoffed. “Too skinny. Sometimes it’s so sad. Taking them to dinner is horrible. It’s painful to see how much they truly disgust their salad, but they eat it anyway. Why would anyone deny themselves something they wanted?”
Why would anyone deny themselves something they wanted?
Because outside forces lead you to believe otherwise.
I shut off the voices of most others a long time ago. Too many opinions cloud your head and you lose your own somewhere in the shuffle of thoughts, thinking, “What if so-and-so is right? Or so-and-so could be right as well. Or…” You sorta forget what you yourself believes to be the truth.
3AM and the world is asleep, and nothing but the sound of my feet crunching winter leaves on the sidewalk leading to his door and the only voice I hear, not one of common sense, or those opinions of friends and the like, is my own telling myself that it’s finally okay to stop holding back and taking score to “protect” myself from reliving the misery of the past summer.
Because I trust him and I believe he deserves to be believed in.
