Thursday, May 18, 2006
He’s sitting on his broken in, chocolate brown, leather armchair and I’ve just gotten up off my knees. I prop my ass on the edge of his coffee table, the same one I'd eyed the weekend before when I flipped past page 23 of the Pottery Barn Summer Catalog. I wink and flash a devilish grin when all of a sudden, he leans forward, pushes my knees apart with flattened palms and drops his head between my legs. Now it’s my turn to receive, to just relax. I lean back on my arms and then, weak in the elbows, lower myself down so that my back is on the tabletop.
“Ouch!” I yelp.
“Are you okay?” he stammers out in between tongue teases.
“Sorry, landed right on the sharp edge of one of those movies you thought we should watch. Oh my God! Is this a VHS? You know, they make porn on DVD's these days.”
I push the red plastic video out of the way and onto the floor so we can get back to the task at hand. My eyes close and I just focus on the sweet sensation of him doing his below the waist magic. Caught up in the moment, I throw one arm up over my head and stretch it out as if I’m reaching for something. Wait, what is that? Oh right. The bottle of Snapple I was drinking before it became clothing optional. Did I finish that? Feels like there's some tea lef – oh God that feels good. Is the cap back here too? My hand fumbles around in search of the lid. It’s gotta be back here somewhere.
Mid-reach, he taps a spot and I lose my train of thought. In a good way. I quickly forget about the silly open container interruption causing a minor panic attack about the possibility of spilling some muddy brown, peach, Snapple tea on his imported ivory area rug. I push my shoulders down into the table and slide them along the wood to arch my spine. As my bare skin drags across the tabletop, a very audible suction noise is made.
“I swear to God. That was my back,” I firmly and defensively announce in between giggles.
A muffled uh-huh comes from him. I suppose he knew the noise wasn’t from below the waist because, well, let's be frank here. He was right in the line of fire. I prop myself up on my elbows and watch the top of his head moving around. It adjusts a little here and a little there. Always with purpose. I extend one arm and loosely run my fingers through his hair. After a few seconds, I start to relax. I again lower myself down onto the table.
“Motherfucker! How many porn movies do you own?” I ask as I finagle another video out from under me. Oh, look. There’s that cap to the Snapple.
After a long and deep breath, I find myself now sitting upright and pulling his head out from between my legs. I look him straight in the eyes with my it's-me-not-you gaze for a few seconds before grabbing his head with both hands, pulling him into me and passionately kissing him. I take one last gentle bite of his lower lip. And as I move my mouth away from his, warm breathy words I so badly want to hear come from his mouth. Words I ache for, I crave, I need.
“Let’s go to the bedroom. Less interruptions for my girl.”