Pantyhose Musings

A Quiet Corner of the Universe

2007-08-29T21:29:00.000-07:00

Ok, admittedly, this corner of the universe has been abnormally quiet. Two years too quiet...

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?

2005-11-06T02:31:00.000-08:00

A beautiful, six-foot-sensuous french woman danced with me tonight and told me three times how gorgeous I looked. I watched her run her hands up the inner thigh of one of her friends and realized she wasn't just trying to create a show for possible spectators - it was subtle and likely unnoticed except that I was dancing quite close to her. So I invited her to a lingere and sex toy party that I'm throwing for my women friends (and am now trying to figure out how I can make sure she's the last to leave....) She threw her arms around me and said it was exactly what she needed right now.

I could see by her dancing that she clearly was in touch with a comfortable sensuality. The best lovers I've ever had thoroughly enjoyed every sensation, every sound, smell, touch and reaction. I'm going to enjoy thinking about her slender hands in my hair and then on thighs as I drift off tonight....

bon soir mes amis!

Scraping for Peanut Butter

2005-11-05T00:53:00.000-08:00

When your peanut butter jar is 98% empty, do you scrape the last old bits to try to make a sandwich anyway? I guess that's how I've felt every time I think about blogging something with meaning.... digging for dregs of something worth saying and coming up with nothing, or only old things, feeling empty and sick of peanut butter anyway. I'm surprised at the gentle prods I've gotten from people, to speak up, be real, tell the truth... or my truth. But in some ways, the venue seems stale, tired, and brittle like the soles in my 10 year old brown loafers... Or maybe that's me?

I've thought once or twice that my aversion to blogging in pure prose has muzzled me in some way. Who wants to hear the full details of my fucking insanity anyway? Why poison the ethers with my agitation and discontent? Why repeat myself? But the more likely truth is that I'm afraid that if I indulge my shadows they'll take over. I'll be feeding those lurking shapes in the corners, paying homage by naming them.

I've been slowly wading out of this spongy marsh but I'm still so close to the cusp that I feel like I could easily slip back in. My lack of progress toward inner contentment is partly a reflection of choices I'm continuing to make: eat things that drain my energy rather than rejuvenate, work too much overtime, under-sleep, isolate, reach out to people who don't reach back... certain aspects of my life these days seem unloving.

I'm unloving myself.... hmmmmm. To those who have sent their love, Thank you. It's meant a lot to me.

Three truths and a lie:

2005-10-03T00:04:00.000-07:00

I once carried a 140 lb woman, on my back, up a mountainside
I once spoke to God... and he spoke back
I've never had my heart broken
I am not fascinated when gay men kiss each other

Clipped Wings and Mediocrity

2005-09-18T11:16:00.000-07:00

I wanted to write - to say how it really is, how I really am but the truth is I don't know. My life is changing, I'm changing. I need more than this yet I'm not sure exactly what I need. It's funny how the world turns and suddenly we have a new perspective.

I love and am loved, that much I know. But something's changed and I'm not willing to settle in areas where I've been willing to accept the status quo before. As this brooding continues, my anger and frustration are finally giving birth to a new drive and determination (the patience is lagging behind though - and I still feel agitated). Have you ever been in a situation where your most exceptional qualities are unnoticed? Or if they are noticed, the feedback is kept under wraps - DELIBERATELY? I know where my strengths lie and I'm not doing anyone any favours by allowing myself to be held hostage. I've got to get on with my life, to seek out situations that honour my talents and raise my energy rather than deflate it.

It shouldn't be a revelation to me to find out that essentially, nobody else is making my best interests their highest priority - I'm sure it's self centred to expect it. But the sober reality is that I'm really the only one who is correctly attuned to my own potential and I'm certainly the only one capable of committing to that future. An advanced soul might ask, might even shift to support that but a lesser person will simply try to coerce or manipulate you, giving you morsels of hope and promise or occasional ego strokes.

Do I sound bitter? Cynical? Disillusioned? Immature? I feel all of the above but want to release any toxicity and move on into my own highest destiny - the one that I choose, based on a sense of adventure and passion. I don't know where it will lead but I do know its time for me to consider birthing a new self, an empowered self that will not settle for clipped wings or mediocrity. I am capable of so much more than that. And most days, I actually believe it...

Tangled in the Brambles, Again

2005-09-05T20:31:00.000-07:00

Sitting in the morning beams of light and coffee steam
You wonder what happened to that subtle voice within
The voice that knows, always inspiring with wonder
Leading us to lost perspectives, quiet joys and a sense of adventure

Breathing deeply, you call on this magic zest, trying not to plead
But knowing that you're off course, tangled in the brambles of discontent
Desperate to shake the growing weight of this pang for fulfillment
For something more, something better, anything but who you are, here and now

In pause, you may recall taking delight in the sweetness of each new day
Embracing the depth of your soul, the mystique and power of the here and now
Invoke this knowing presence now: sense it - and give in to its higher intelligence
In an instant, the slightest shift can bring peace of mind into focus

Sense it...
Breathe it...
Feel it...
Know it...

Surrender to the eternal presence of your deepest self
Give in - to the infinite wonder that you are, the beauty and the majesty
Feel alive with the pulse of life and passion, your source of power and strength
Tap into the channel of millions of others who are also tuned to the frequency of joy

Discard your confined notions of smallness, of who you thought you were
With each new dawn, you have the power to be reborn and reawakened
Pause to re-commit to your grace and bring your deepest potential to light
When you honour your aliveness, you light a sparkling fire for the world to see

What My Mother Never Knew #25: Three friends. One night.

2005-09-03T01:05:00.000-07:00

Warning: Naughty

Woodgrove was one of those neighbourhoods that had character and spunk, cheap real estate and a high crime rate. My friend's suite was on the upper level of an older heritage home. It was tiny with an A-frame ceiling that felt like an oven in July and August. The last time I was there was in early July but it was in the evening, and the open windows on either end of the suite enabled natural air conditioning via the cross-breeze. Lenora and I had been out with a bunch of people that night, enjoying drinks and steaks at the Keg. We'd managed to pass without being asked for ID since most of the crowd we were with that night were in their twenties.

After dinner, three of us were heading over to Brian's but Lenora mentioned that she had some Kaluha back at her place and we decided to make a pit stop. I don't recall why, at 15 she had moved out on her own, but I was totally envious of her independence. We sat around talking over the iced liqueur, surrounded by lit candles and jasmine incense, settling deeper and deeper into the futon with each drink. And the next thing I knew, they were kissing, and then we were kissing while Brian blew out all but a few candles, glancing our way quizzically to be sure that this was really happening. The alcohol had sweetly melted my inhibitions, jeans and then t-shirt falling to the carpet with only the slightest trepidation.

My mouth met Brian's while Lenora stroked his eager cock. He had a bit of a moustache, totally soft, surrounding full lips that knew how to kiss in an unhurried way, tasting and exploring the nuances of my own mouth and neck. Not wanting Lenora to feel left out, I shifted my full attention to her warm small lips, tasting the remnants of the peach lip gloss she had been wearing earlier. Slowly, I let my mound slide down her slim pale thigh until our pelvises met in a steamy crescendo. Brian's hands, Lenora's taught breasts, seeing him mount her and feeling my swollen labia nearly bursting with passion and desire - the memory has faded now into a flesh collage of exhilarating sensations in the flickering amber candlelight. I'd frequently consumed too much alcohol to recall some of our escapades but this night, we'd stayed within reason - just enough to allow us to tread onto new ground without complete embarrassment. Lenora moaned into my hungry mouth as Brian thrusted her into a shivering orgasm. I thought I might faint in anticipation. Praying that he had not also passed the point of no return, I nibbled playfully at her taught nipples as Brian rolled over onto his back. Her musical laugh may have been in pleasure or perhaps a nervous self-consciousness at being the centre of such attention.

I looked over at Brian and could see from the firm strokes with which he touched himself that he was not far off himself. I left one hand cupped on Lenora's breast as I mounted his waiting shaft, standing firm and straight, like the guards at Buckingham palace. Lenora and Brian found each others' mouths and as rode him, I watched their tongues probing and teasing one another. He bit down on her lower lip and I heard her breath catch. She slowly sucked on his tongue and I felt his cock stiffen even more.

This was entirely too erotic and I began to lose my grip. My pussy tightened and suddenly became searing. If I didn't stop now, I wouldn't be able to. But then Brian began to moan and thrust, reaching for my hips and pulling me forcefully to meet his deepening plunges. I felt him coming, and could not suppress a scream as wash after wash of pleasure poured through me. Brian began to slow at this point but I begged him to continue, his slightly subdued thrusts feeding an extended orgasm that continued for well over two minutes. By the end of it, I was nearly in tears, unable to stop the exquisite fibrillations, feeling totally exposed as my two lovers watched on. Finally, it slowed enough for me to slip off into Lenora's arms. I could barely speak for the next few minutes, but laughed and shook my head at having such a wild climax, unlike anything I'd experienced (prior to and since that night).

Three friends. One night.... And one amazing unforgetable experience. I'm not sure that I ever topped that one.

The Age of Ethers

2005-08-27T00:40:00.000-07:00

What is this new medium where unleashed minds come to play?

The curious unite, take flight, and incite

Surfing the fray, thoughts lead the way

Dreaming out loud, stretching the world

A new dimension - electronic-ascention

Bluetooth, file sharing, net sex, group think

Anonymous revelation - soul dilation

Accentuation, affirmation: the best, the worst, the durst

Lawless frontier bandits lurk in armchairs and sagging underwear
The young become old, the meek become bold

We blog-fantasize, sexualize, and therapize
Echoing the dull ache of a thousand lonely souls
Shining small prospector's lights on the path ahead
And trying not to look back at the long shadows
Together we mine for those elusive gold nuggets:
For signs of intelligent life, for soulfulness
For communion, for becoming more than we were,
More than the sum total of our processing powers
Coming to love strangers in stranger lands
Exceptionally creative people with minds full
Pioneers in a brave new world

A larger-than-life world with a soul that defies comprehension

Sloe Gin (naughty)

2005-08-22T19:52:00.000-07:00

A fellow Commonwealthite wrote me something really sweet - OK it's actually quite nasty but it was the thought that counts right? He's such a talented writer - I couldn't help but share this (he has also posted it to an unpublished blog site, at the above link). Hope you enjoy it!

She’d been delayed two hours in the transfer between London and Newcastle International – a provincial airport with big ideas. He hung about waiting, chewing his lip and wondering if this was such a good idea. Writing on the Internet was one thing, offering to host a perfect stranger might turn out to be another.

The tannoy crackled with the last call for a flight to Barcelona. He looked at his watch, and tried to ignore the tightening sensations in his gut. Then they were there, people streaming out of the baggage hall. They had to be from the London flight - her flight. He glanced at the picture, the shock of auburn hair, slightly turned up nose, the sensational lips and slid it back into his pocket. He didn’t need to look at it. He knew what she looked like, knew more about her than any stranger he’d ever met. He resisted the urge to turn and disappear with the crowds. That would be too cruel and cowardly to boot.

And then she was there, a bag slung over one shoulder on a long strap, and another dragging behind on small wheels. The feeling left him and he waved. She returned the gesture, and he stepped forward to meet her, infinitely relieved that they were communicating in person and it was ok .

‘Hi Fred,’ she said offering him her cheek.

He kissed it, inhaling her perfume and feeling the thick hair brush his face. ‘How was the flight?

You look great.’

‘Liar’, she said. I must look like shit.

He laughed and shook his head.

‘No at all, but let’s get out of here – BC’s a long way. You’ll need to stretch your legs.’

‘Something like that,’ she said. I need a drink, and a bath, and a long slow - holiday.’ She made an impish face.

He remembered the filthy emails that they’d sent each other, and laughed. That ‘long slow’ thing was a code between them. He took the wheeled bag and gestured her forward. ‘The car’s outside – come on.’

On the drive, they talked about the reason she’d come, the conference on city planning she was speaking at – disaster management she told him, and he thought of New Orleans and hurricanes. Not much call for hurricane planning here, but there’d be other stuff no doubt, terrorism maybe.

As he drove, the scent of her made him go hard, it was weird, but she had a kind of presence, sitting there. He took in her Canadian accent as she talked, and then her again, warm and soft and horny. He knew she was horny, knew from the emails and from the little vibes, the glances she gave him. He wondered why he’d had that urge to run at the barrier – she was gorgeous.

It was a fifteen minute drive, an advantage of living in a provincial city. Not like London where it might have been a ninety minute struggle through the traffic. They pulled up and she slid out of the car, brushing her hair aside and looking at the house.

‘Nice’, she said, smiling. Very – Edwardian?’

‘It's Edwardian, but only just - built about nineteen fourteen,' he said.

He opened the gate and they walked up the garden path.

Inside, he poured drinks – whiskey and water, and they lounged in chairs by the open french window, the curtains moving slightly in the breeze that brought in the heavy scent of Jasmine.

‘Can I get you some dinner?’ he asked, ‘Maybe you’re hungry?’

‘I ate on the plane – some kind of horrible cutlet.’

‘You’re sure, I could send out for something – Chinese? A curry? Italian?’

‘No – really. A shower – maybe a bath, and I’ll be fine. It’s good of you to put me up. It’s a nice place.’

He stood up and moved for the door. ‘I’ll take your stuff upstairs – show you your room.’

He walked down the stairs and imagined her stripping in his guest bedroom, pictured her voluptuous, naked, stepping into the bath, sliding down into warm water and that he was soaping her, stroking a slippery bar over those beautiful breasts and wiping bubbles over them with his hands, faltering over hard nipples and teasing them, circling the brown sensitive skin with a finger. He imagined stooping and licking them, sucking the nipples into his mouth and teasing her with his teeth. He shook his head, banishing the lustful thoughts. Disgraceful – she’d hate it if she knew he was imagining that. He poured a soft drink and walked into the garden, trying not to stray back to that fantasy, but soon he did, and was soaping her most private parts, sensing her willingly part her thighs so he could go deeper - invade her with his fingers. He was hard and damp. He shut it off again went over to the exercise machine and did pull ups on the bar - twenty, all the way up to his chin. He was hot and panting now. It helped.

She came down dressed in jeans and a loose shirt. It was unbuttoned at the neck, somehow dawing his eyes to her breasts as she came to sit beside him on the sofa. He got up.

‘What would you like to drink Susan?’ he said.

‘Another Whiskey maybe?’

‘I know – have you had sloe gin?’ he said, grinning. ‘It’s a killer.’

‘I don’t think so, but I’m game.’

‘You are? That’s good babe,’ he said moving for the drinks.’

‘This is starting to run like those depraved sex stories you sent me by email,’ she joked.

He laughed, pouring the dark sweet fluid. ‘Yeah – I know – don’t tell me. You hated every one of them.’

‘I did so,’ she purred.

He handed her the glass. ‘That’s why you asked if I knew anyone who could put you up here during the conference.’

‘Yeah – knew you were all talk.’

He grinned and toasted her.

‘Touche.’

She returned the gesture and sipped.

‘Wow – that’s nice.

‘I know. Only discovered it recently. Don't be fooled, it kicks like a cow.’

'I'd have said horse, but thanks for the warning.'

He laughed and sat beside her.

‘I knew we’d get on.’ he said.

‘How?’

‘Don’t know really – we just had some connection. I thought it would work in reality as well as across the ether.’

‘That’s a funny word – ether.' She mocked his accent.

‘Ethur,’ he said, mocking hers. 'I mean across the Internet.' She leaned forward and kissed him. He laughed and kissed her back. Then he pulled away to put down the glass. ‘You know – you’re really beautiful. The pictures didn't do you justice.’

‘I know, and you’re really lucky.’

She slid down on the settee as he moved to kiss her.

‘Lucky as a dog with two pricks,’ he said.

‘Only two?’

He kissed her mouth hungrily and felt her respond, heaving her breasts towards him as his tongue flicked over her lips and teased her before he moved back and opened her blouse.

‘God – you’re wonderful,‘ he gasped, running his hands over her.

She gripped his sides and pulled him to her.

‘Wanna fuck me big boy?’

‘What do you think?’

‘I think you do. I think you do a lot.’

He kissed her softly on the mouth, then looked into her eyes. ‘Know what? You’re right.’ He kissed her again and stood up, taking her by the hand. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’

She stood loosened her jeans and wiggled out of them.

‘Why?’ she said. ‘You Brits are so conventional. You can fuck me right here. I’ve come along way today - and Mister – I’m not moving another step.’

He laughed and stroked her silk underwear. She was warm and powerful, not skinny, not one of those puny, ‘I don’t eat that,’ types - more than wonderful, she was the hot blooded, grab life with both hands and gorge on it kind of woman, and he wanted her like he’d wanted nothing in years. They kissed, hard and passionate and their hands roamed over the other’s body. He stepped back and ripped his shirt off. She came after him as he undressed and sucked on his naked skin, making him stumble, pants around his ankles. Then she had her hands on his dick and he clasped her, him naked, her still in underwear. He struggled with the catch at the back of her brassier, making her laugh at his ineptitude. All men fumbled that, he thought and then she helped him out, releasing magnificent breasts so that his heart raced at the sight of them and instead of speaking, he told her how much he admired them by covering them with his kisses.

She walked backwards leading him to the couch and she slumped down on it, wrapping him in her thighs as he followed her to the leather cushions. He kneaded her breasts with both hands, pressing his dick up against her crotch - only her silk knickers keeping them apart. He licked her ear lobes, her lips, her breasts in a frenzy of delight, hardly knowing what to taste next, and then everything became clear to him, and he knew what he should taste - taste long and slow - taste until she came and drenched him in her juices. He tried to speak, but there were no words, just an animal sound, and he grasped the silk and pulled her pants down, kissing her belly, moving slowly as he stroked one breast and a thigh, his face sliding over her so that his lips trailed down and skirted around to find that wonderful spot where her thigh merged into her body. He licked her there listening to her groans. He knew what she wanted, and slid his hand into the glorious opening and stroked the honeyed flesh around it. Round and around his fingers went, flicking just inside and then over the throbbing centre of her pleasure. She squirmed and clenched her fist in his hair, panting as his mouth moved nearer and he began to lick her where he knew she wanted it, tasting, gently at first, then more urgently as he slid fingers inside her and moved them tenderly while he pleasured her, sometimes with the tip of his tongue – teasing and gentle, then hard, the whole length of it, roughly licking over the exquisite sensitivity until she squirmed and gasped, thrusting it at him as if she wanted more of his mouth and more of his hand inside her. He worked her - fingers curled inside as he drove her mad, closing his lips on her - sucking - nibbling and licking long and hard, devouring her like she was some exquisite food, sucking up her juices and bearing the twisting of his hair in her fist as she thrust her luscious pussy into his face. She cried out as his teeth sank into her flesh – just enough to drive her into a last spasm of pleasure and then he was up and fucking her for all he was worth.

Exhausted, she reached under her buttocks and felt his balls, holding them gently as they tightened to her touch and began to pump warm fluid into her. He gasped, head exploding and came into her as she seemed to shiver with the joy of it… He sank onto her belly, his head on her breasts, his breath coming in gasps.

‘My God,’ he said. We only met ninety minutes ago.’

She looked at her watch.

‘More like seventy five,’ she said, but I’ve wanted that for a while. Where’s that drink you gave me? What did you say it was called?

‘Sloe gin,’ he said.

‘Slow my ass,’ she answered.

Forbidden Fruit

2005-08-22T10:10:00.000-07:00

When I see those August apples, swooping so low on the branch, glistening, rose coloured reflections in the heat

I can almost hear them begging to be plucked and savoured, held and caressed, treasured and adored

Yet I know it's too soon, this early in the season to be plucking them from the branch - though I want them to be ready, and willing - they're not

Bright and charming, beneath the surface, the sugars are not yet developed, the flavours surely not ready for the palate

And when I look close I can see that there was no beckoning at all, only hope and joy and a sense of promise

And I feel stupid for wanting one, for hoping one might fall into my hand, one that's near the top, looking more bold and grand than the others

Looking to need my warm breath and touch...

I wanted to be first to this sturdy tree, I wanted to win it over completely, to give flight to something wild and free

Reluctantly though, acceptance takes hold that I can love these apples from a distance - to appreciate their perfect evolution and to (once again) turn my attention inward

For the thing is, my own garden, though beautiful and fragrant, is waiting patiently for nourishment, appreciation and the kind of love that only I can give it

And my loneliness is but a symptom of my frenetic search for external validation, at the expense of my own soul

My state of mind, my yearning is chosen each day, from a multitude of other demeanor's, and worn like a misshapen sweater, constantly pulling and weighing me down

Exposure, embarrassment and even shame are gentle teachers - revealing to me that I still have long road ahead of me

But showing me also, the orchards that await, the fertility of my own soul and the promise that I won't always be alone

Looking back to the tree, I still want to reach, but instead I send my love and tend to my own garden, in a nearby patch

And I leave my shame, my neediness and my desire possess and be possessed back in the composter with all the other fodder - right where it belongs

One Sure Thing

2005-08-14T17:29:00.000-07:00

Steady feet, face gleaning in the spray mist, both arms reaching for the sides of the wave I ride in glory, as if in flight

Game on - balance, strength and instincts guide me through the tube, just ahead of the gravity that nips at my heels

This is not the first wave I've sailed through, endorphins raging with elation - nor will it be the last

But it's the inevitable splash that I most dread - the end of the road. The fall from grace

Pushing through the foam, I shield my head from the board that flings my way and try to distinguish up from down

Beneath the swirling surface, one moment expands and I feel the great silence, the quiet vastness of the universe, the source of all life

And then, breaking the surface, my lungs pull desperately, sucking air from the atmospheric bosom, born again

And try as I might, as I towel off, avoiding eye contact with bronzed spectators, I can think of only one thing:

My fall - the slip that led to it, the failure to recover and the miserable entry into the water, graceless and impotent

I vow to get it right next time, to push further along the crest, to find the perfect ending, resilient and enviable

Later that night, the weeping of my soul keeps me awake, not at the feebleness of my fall but at the heartbreak at having missed the glory of the ride

I rode that wave, with prowess, deft and agility and though there were errors, the ride itself was breathtakingly bold - not perfect, but ardent and admirable

And though I shouldn't have to, I remind myself: it wasn't about my performance, though there will be those who judge me

It was about the pure joy of the ride, the ecstasy, the freedom and the complete aliveness that I experienced

I vow today to keep my sights on the joy of being - the passion of the ride

And next time, I'll resist the urge to look back, and focus on one sure thing:

The sublime verve of the here and now

What My Mother Never Knew #23: The Other Side Part Two

2005-08-02T21:59:00.000-07:00

I heard the ticking of the clock on the mantle behind me, reminding me that time was in fact continuing on without my participation.... Tick, tick, tick.... I had no idea what the clock looked like but I suspected it was one of those antique mantle clocks with dark cherry casing and roman numerals on a yellowed aging face. I wanted to turn and see it, wanted to know for sure that time had not stopped - but I was frozen, completely unable to move of my own will. My body functions were all there - cruising on auto pilot, though slowly: blinking, breathing, heart beating. Volition though had slipped away... I could not move, not in the slightest way. I had been like this for an hour, gazing straight ahead, unable to answer those who stopped to talk to me. And though I could hear them laughing, and see them, in my peripheral vision, pointing and shaking their heads, nothing changed, the clock drummed on ... and on ... and on ... the rhythm intrigued me - as I'd earlier been intrigued by the throbbing bass in my friend's mini.

We were hanging out with our most preppie group of friends who were all in their early twenties. We'd switched to this scene for much of the spring and the parties were often elaborate concoctions that others would never have bothered with. This particular day was near Easter, and Leanne and Darcy picked me up in Darcy's white '72 Austin Mini. It had two black racing stripes down the hood that Darcy did justice by driving like an insane European.

We hit the road to convene at the Railyard where the rules of the car rally scavenger hunt were laid out. There were 6 cars: John's green Camero with Tammy in tow, Sue's steel blue Celica with Brice and Toni along, Danny's mom's Cutlass with Rob playing co-pilot, Tony and Ian in the recovered milk truck, and Leanne, Darcy, Mike and I in the mini. Mike had joined us after picking up a bag of rather green weed to share. In those days the term homegrown really equated to "impotence" and I was at first unimpressed. When he actually brought it out though, what the contents lacked in THC, they up for in quantity; there must have been about 2 ounces stuffed into his bomber jacket. And so away we went to find the first scavenger item.

We tore out of the parking lot, listening to Roxy Music...

Oh oh catch that buzz
Love is the drug I´m thinking of
Oh oh can´t you see
Love is the drug for me....

We hit the top of Mount Best and found a hidden Kokenay beer in the bushes near the sundial. We sped over to the resevoir to find a pair of pantyhose tied to the "No Trespassing" sign. We climbed into the fountain in front of the Grande Ocean hotel to pull a nipple tassel off of the goddess in the center. We were on a roll - at the head of the pack, but the clues were getting harder, and we were getting more stoned. To be sure that we were high on such lightweight weed, we just kept smoking, and smoking and smoking. The car windows even had a slight golden film on the inside by the end of the rally.

We ended up 4th place after we had a hard time finding the the jock strap, and weren't able to get any of the bonus items (peacock feather, empty rum bottle and an item with an American flag on it). We did manage to blow Darcy's speakers though (must have been Freddy Mercury)...

Still waiting for the pot to take effect, we arrived at the final party location. I found the bar and made something to drink. Quenched, I shuffled to the living room where I heard others and stopped in my tracks in disbelief. In the centre of the room was a 4 foot tall stuffed bunny, surrounded by baskets of chocolate, and other sweets. I felt like Alice in Wonderland and then it hit me - I was really high, exceptioally, beyond being able to talk myself down. I looked around and none of the surroundings struck me as normal. It was all distorted - the film had been stretched - the people became caricatures, the furniture and walls, props in some strange drama. It wasn't funny... my feet pulled me along to a fireplace ledge. Yes, there was that clock. I turned, found solid support as I lowered to meet the bricks and then I let go. That's it, I just let go. Perhaps I could have moved if I'd tried right then, but later, when I did try, I couldn't... I was perfectly still: the pond below the ripples, unexpressed potential.

Two hours later, I was lifted, given cold cloths and walked around the house - once the hostess realized I had become stuck. And then I was awake again, engaged, animated. I'd approached a precipice, teetered and then withdrew back to normalcy, toying with the limits, however unintentionally.

Some days now, when I can't remember a word or a name, I wonder if I left a few important parts behind, or perhaps ruined too many neural pathways. Other days, I suspect that I actually broke through into new states of consciousness. The stillness I experienced then was not unlike the results of the expensive Transcendental Meditation course I later took, a year or so after I realized that the drugs weren't working for me. And even though there were scares and many stupid decisions and consequences, I don't think I regret having experienced so many altered states. I'm sure it wasn't worth the risk, but I guess pushing the boundary was part of what drove me to use drugs. I'm glad I later found other ways and means to experience the adventures of consciousness.

FlungUndone

2005-07-26T01:47:00.000-07:00

A stone rolls down a hill, tumbling incessantly, hurling and clamouring across the scuffed terrain.

Driven by momentum alone, I push on, no plotted destination, just over, around, clacking across the cement, the dirt, leaving only trace evidence of my passing.

My brother, watches me from the bars of his prison, with intrigue and bewilderment, at my chaotic, random decent.

A stone rolls down a hill until it drops, unable to go any further, waiting to be flung or kicked, swept away in a current or ground to dust in the shifting earth.

Head falling, spent, to my pillow, the hurling beasts are tamed for one more night. My thoughts return to my brother, unnamed, hemmed in, a watchful spectator, stone face, frozen in time.

We seem to need each other almost as much as we need to go our own ways.

My soul aches to reach out – to commune and be held. But in truth, what I need most is to feel the pull of my own destiny, the source of my passion, the flinger of my soul.

Perhaps then, I can be driven for the right reasons, anticipating the future rather than the bottom.

And finally flung undone - I'll leave the heaviness behind.

What My Mother Never Knew #23: The Other Side

2005-07-16T09:24:00.000-07:00

There were many times when I crossed over. Where I crossed to, I'm still not sure but I can say that it was no place for a child. And certainly, despite all my posturing, and sexual antics, and perhaps higher than average intelligence, the truth was that I was still a child in most ways: self-centred, emotionally insecure and undeveloped - a wounded bird puffing up to appear bigger and more frightening that it really is. And secretly living in terror at the thought of its own smallness, at my own weakness. Perhaps this is what actually drove me to cross the line, to risk losing touch completely.

The first time that I recall drifting too far out to sea was in front of the little convenience store in a small small-town Ontario strip mall. Long summer days had us looking for ways to entertain ourselves and we had engaged in a game of mutual hyperventillation-asphyxiation. Crouching, one would hyperventillate and then be strangled in one way or another until passing out. As pre-teens, we thought this quite entertaining - the sensation of being able to trigger our own unconsciousness.

It was perhaps my 6th time that day - I'd really stopped counting by that point but the tell-tale headache had begun already so I know I'd done more than a few 'trips'. But this trip was different. When I came to, instead of recalling a meander through some musical dream world, I recalled nothing. And my chin and nose stung like they'd been polished with 100 grit sandpaper. My friends told me that I'd gone out for too long and that they couldn't wake me up. And rather than simply nodding off, I had fallen face-first into the pavement and convulsed on the ground, grinding into the cement. I'm sure they laughed at first, perhaps it looked as if I were making love to the sidewalk. But then they worried and tried to shake me out of it.

It took a few minutes longer than usual, but eventually I did wake up, dazed and embarrassed, trying to figure out where I'd gone. I don't believe we played that game again and though scared, I'm not sure whether the gravity of it actually did sink in at the time. Now, as an adult, I wish I could go back to that day and pluck myself from that situation, talk to that child for a while and maybe even say "I love you". I'm not sure if I would have been able to hear it though.

There were other times, actually too many to explore here, when I delved deeper than I meant to, when the experiment went awry. One memory feels sharper than the others though, as if it just happened.

It too was one of those meltingly hot summer days that leave one listless and vague. Or perhaps it was the bud that we'd been enjoying on the grass overlooking the tourist promenade near the harbour. People walked by, paid for goofy characatures of themselves, licked the drips of their sticky icecream cones, scolded their children and held hands. We were indifferent, more concerned that Tony was monopolizing the splif with his three-minute monster-lung tokes. But Sarah had just gotten paid and there was ample supply so we really didn't need to be worried. The sun beat down on us that day, sucking the life from me. Finally, I convinced my friend that we needed to go to the air-conditioned mall for reprieve and munchies.

So the two of us shook the grass from our jeans and went our own way, snaking through tourist-infested sidewalks and idyllic cobblestone marketplaces, artsy vendors, fighting for their share of people's expendible income. We found the mall and entered through one of the department store entrances (Sears or The Bay I think). My friend, always driven and extremely efficient in her stride, started to outpace me, and then I began to experience something strange. My vision slowly clouded, as if I were looking through dirty water or television static. It grew worse and worse. I called out for Sarah. "Sarah - WAIT!!". I heard the familiar impatience in her voice as she came back to the spot where I was now frozen.

"Come on! We've only got 40 minutes before the bus comes and I want to get some coffee and straighten out before I go home".

"Sarah, something's happening and I'm really getting freaked out..... I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING!!!" I cried.

"Look, keep it down - everyone's looking at you. Are you sure you can't see anything?...Here, just take my arm and I'll walk you out. I've still got that bag on me and don't want anyone trying to help us." She gave me her arm.

God, I wanted help. My vision had gone completely - it was just black. I could hear everything but I felt like I was a million miles away. And I felt terror, like I was about to die, or slip away to another dimension. If I could just sit down for a minute.... But then we were moving again, me trusting the arm I now gripped like a baby's bottle, my only sense of security. I wanted to scream.

I soon felt the rubber escalator grip beneath my hand and clung to it for balance as we were lifted to the food court. With a cold drink in my hands and a seat near the corner, I began to regain my composure. The drink was gone in moments and my sight, gradually restored. I cried a bit. My head felt like a truck had rolled over it. My friend looked at me like I was crazy, like maybe she wasn't sure if I'd really lost my sight. I didn't have the energy to explain to her. And I didn't really have an explanation to give. I assumed it had something to do with the enormous quantity of weed I'd smoked along with the heat.

Of course I couldn't tell my mother about my meltdown or there would be more questions.... and then lies. There were many other times when I so much wanted to tell my mother what was really going on. All of it. But I'd made the choices, and any admission at this point would be an admission of my own failings, my own incompetence. I found myself in a catch 22. Beneath that pride wanted to be nutured: held and comforted, and told that it would be OK. Yet I had developed such distrust of my mother by this point that I actually recoiled if she came too close to me.

Maybe it was lingering impact of my earlier sexual abuse. Maybe it was my resentment toward my mother for being too wrapped up in herself and in her incessant pursuits of men. I'd grown up too fast and was now left in a position of parenting myself. I was no longer willing to accept that from my mother. My father was too far away and my mother's live-in boyfriend was only there for my mother, with the exception of one or two sexual flirtations towards me. I really could trust nobody. And clearly, I couldn't even trust myself. As my drug use shifted from recreational to habitual, I think I may have been simply trying to opt out of the whole ugly mess. That day in the food court, I wanted out so bad. I wanted out yet beneath that, I just wanted to go home.

Shards

2005-07-12T01:11:00.000-07:00

emotions orbit, like shards of broken glass
some reflecting light, casting rainbows and dreams
others approaching with menace

Terrifying randomness

lost in a wash of chaos
surrounded, engulfed, permeated
swimming in a limitless ocean
so many different currents,
interrupting, interacting, interfacing

at times, gazing down from distant clouds
watching the dance - a voyeur
intrigued, baffled, amazed

............such complexity

Back in the Saddle

2005-07-07T00:10:00.000-07:00

Speaking of intelligence quotient, I think I'm in love. Can one fall in love with a blog? His name is Harley Writer.

Never having posted a LINK before, I'm pondering my broken LINK cherry and I can't help but wonder... is this a symptom of my bloginnocence or my complete and total self-absorbsion?

I choose to be me

2005-06-27T19:57:00.000-07:00

I love my life. I love having friends and family, a job I love, intellect, compassion, a voice, song, passion, insight, vision and soul-fullness. I'm so grateful for the gifts I have today and I hope that I'm doing them justice in the ways that I share them. I sometimes forget that I've given my life to something higher. I sometimes forget that the universe (or whatever's out there) leads me to better places than I could have plotted myself. I often forget that I can be a shining work of art, a star who lights the way, a channel for higher love. I forget and then I remember. I remember and I feel soulful, strong and grounded in certainty of self.

If I could wish for one thing right now it would be to express my highest nature and live my greatest truth - as a mother, as a lover, as a citizen, and as a human being. I wish to express godliness in all facets of my life, to shed the films that block my light, to lose the fear that holds me back, to birth the love that lies dormant in my heart. I wish to let go of all those things that hold me back, that keep me thinking small, that keep me closed and self-protective, fearful and full of limitation. I wish for exceptionality, exquisiteness, sublime expression of passion and truth.

As I recall these aspirations I feel nothing but peace and serenity, because I know that in truth, I'm already fulfilled. I am this potential, whether it comes out all the time or only sometimes - I still hold it in my heart. And the filters that block the beautiful light from shining through are not attached, they aren't part of me. I cling to them like shields or cloaks but in fact they are simply props in a rather comical drama. When I let go of them, I'm amazed at how quickly they drift off, like helium balloons, never meant to stay in one place...

I'm humbled in reverence for this revelation of my own true identity, mystified that I could have missed it only an hour ago, antagonizing over the trivia of my job insecurities or imagined domestic entrapments. Suddenly, I'm freed. I'm soaring with the knowledge of what really matters, and am able to tune into the real source of my own satisfaction, contentment and pure joy. I can almost feel the sensation of wings sprouting, pulsing, lifting me up out of my own confines to the swifter currents of coalescing light, higher awareness and fearlessness. I am charmed by new rhythms and sounds, rainbows and celestial beings of light. I play in their world, share in their laughter and take comfort in their knowing. It's not that suffering doesn't exist - it does, it's been a big part of my journey. But there comes a time when hanging onto it becomes a choice, and when one knows that it's OK to let it go without judgement or prejudice. Today I choose joy. I choose elation at the beauty that I see everywhere around me. I choose self-satisfaction at my progress instead of condemnation of my shortfallings.

I choose to be free and alive. I choose to be me.

What My Mother Never Knew #22: A Walk on the Wild Side

2005-06-20T13:47:00.000-07:00

It's hard to say when things shifted from being really crazy to really bad. Maybe they always were. The thing is, I was getting closer and closer to the razor's edge that separates risk taking from self-destruction.

I woke up one morning with a wet spot on my pillow. Somehow, I decided that my Himalayan cat had puked near my face. It was clear and smelled mildly of fermentation.... yet rather than admit to myself that I'd vomited in my sleep, so intoxicated the previous night that I could easily have asphyxiated, I adopted the explanation that it had been my cat. Years later, the truth came to me suddenly, like a Newtonian discovery: I had actually lied to myself and totally believed it!

There were other questionable uses of my brain. One night we were out and about for a street festival downtown. My friend dragged me over to a small grove of trees and introduced me to someone she used to know. The girl was a few years older than us, maybe 17 or so and had obviously not been raised in the middle class neighbourhoods we came from. She pulled from her dirty jean pocket a small packet of white powder that she was trying to sell. "Coke?", I asked, getting a feeling of panic and exhilaration at the possibility of trying cocaine for the first time.
"No", she said. "It's exactly like coke though, just a man-made version, synthetic cocaine. Only 10 bucks will get you guys high all night". And so it did.

We ended up at a party in a ritzy neighbourhood and before I knew what I was up to I had stripped down to my bra and panties and jumped in the outdoor pool. I think that although we technically were crashing the party, they let us stay just for the amusement. By the end of the night, the booze I'd consumed negated any euphoria induced by the mystery powder. I guess it didn't put me into the hospital or anything but it just seems so asinine looking back - taking something unknown from someone unknown, without pausing to think about the risk.

Another day, we ended up hanging with a guy we'd met downtown and he invited us up to his apartment to smoke some dope. He was wiry and depleted, like someone who'd just been released from a concentration camp. When we got to his 'apartment', we found it to be a single room in the "Royal Hotel", which was really a cockroach infested dive providing only the bare necessities for the most destitute. We walked through the dark hallways with Marcel and up three flights of squeaking stairs to a 5 X 7 room, with a hot plate and bar fridge, take out containers on every surface and the smell of stale cigarette smoke and old socks.

We played it pretty cool since he was the one buying the dope but I'd never seen anything so sad. We should have been buying the drugs if this was all he could afford. Sitting there passing a hash pipe around, I looked out the two foot square window down into a small courtyard. It wasn't open for residents but since the four sides of the building encased the small open space, you could look out and see windows of other tenants. Most curtains were drawn or apartments empty but a movement caught my eye. An older woman lying in her bed looked right at me, an oustretched hand reaching, asking for help. I thought I heard her moan. My new friend Marcel shut the curtains, said that the woman was crazy and redirected us to the process of ordering Chinese food. By this point we all had the munchies pretty bad, despite the somewhat nauseating surroundings.

We ate, I gave him a massage and Lori cleaned up his room and washed the table off. It was the first of July and we planned on heading down to the park where the Canada Day fireworks were to take place. But before going, Marcel explained that he was diabetic and needed some insulin. He leaned out the window, slightly out of view and injected himself. We let him relax for a bit and then headed down to the park. I'd agreed to take Marcel's syringes of insulin in my purse, under strict instructions to only give him a needle every two hours. Any more than that and he would run out too soon, he explained.

Navigating the crowds to a spot on the grass, we waited for the show and smoked a bit of weed. I suddenly wondered if my mom and brother had come down too and decided to try to keep a low profile. Before we knew it, the show was over and we left to find a beach where there was supposed to be a party happening.

Marcel asked for a syringe. Only an hour had passed since his last one and I pointed that out. He pressed for it again, and, trying to be helpful, I said "No way - I'm not going to be responsible for any diabetic seizures tonight." He grabbed my wrist hard and with an icy tone, through clenched teeth, he whispered loudly "It's not insulin... Give it to me now." I immediately handed him all of his syringes and breathed a sigh of relief as he moved to some bushes to shoot up. The battery-acid taste of fear stayed in my throat for an hour though. I'd never seen anyone with that violent look in their eyes before, especially directed at me. Lori and I decided to boot it out of there and let our junkie friend find his own way.

That night, I feel like I slipped one or two notches down the innocence scale, as if I were clinging to one of those greased poles at the country fair. And I also had a startling glimpse of what lay waiting at the bottom: filth, degradation and despair. The people I'd met that night were like empty shells, souls left behind in some bus station locker somewhere. Well, I certainly wasn't like them - was I?

Divine Intersection

2005-06-07T22:12:00.000-07:00

I sometimes wonder how it is that you have stumbled upon the path to who I am

You may know me or think you know me or perhaps you're just someone looking up from the crosswalk

But through our crossing, mingling or simply observing, we become for an instant, co-creators of a joint reality

You say something that leaves me wondering, look at me oddly and leave me doubting, or smile in an instant of mutual knowing

I love you, despise you, long for you or judge you,

See your grace, sense your pain, feel your weathered skin or hear the truth of your soul's presence

And knowing you makes me whole, broadens my sense of what I am and who I might become

In your eyes I discover lost essence, I heal my own pitted scars and I birth parts of me that you and only you might ever come to know

It's joyous - this intimate connection you and I have, freed from the confines of self-centredness, buoyed by a new perspective on our own small lives

Be with me in this moment and know that we will never again be the same

Touch me in this instant and we shall nudge each other closer our own true wholeness

What My Mother Never Knew #21: Jailbait Intruders

2005-06-04T19:03:00.000-07:00

I recall so little that didn't involve drug use. For example, we traveled to see a Black Sabbath concert one weekend and had bought an ounce of pot about two weeks ahead of the concert because it was a good deal and we had the money. We divided it in two, rolled it up, fought over who rolled the best joints (mine were always tighter) and smoked a couple then and there to make sure they'd turned out OK. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that we were nearly dry again by the time we got to the concert. Finding more, luckily, was not a problem. And that's it, I don't remember any of the concert - just the drugs, running out and getting more. I think we may have went skiing for a day while there, but likewise, all I recall is the joint we smoked with a ski patrol on the chair lift. I honestly don't think I cared about anything other than getting high.

But I suppose, when I think back to other events, I recall a few other strange things, like where my bed was in my bedroom during different time periods. My surprise lover, gained entry when the bed was on the far left, against the wall. My sleepover orgy happened when the bed was against the far wall, near the closet with the spyhole. When the bed was in the middle, right under the window, other memories surface, ones that I've not considered in years. One of these memories also brings to mind the smell of underarm deodorant.

I'd met the guy at an AA dance which my friend had dragged me out to. Her mom was in AA and she in alateen and she suggested we go to a Saturday night dance. We drank "Silent Sam" vodka first, thinking that we would be safe from detection (duhhhh-right!!). Well if anyone did smell, they didn't make a fuss and so we proceeded to dance and scout for boys. I ended up meeting Clint, who had just come out of a federal prison. He was was 24 and had pulled an armed robbery which had landed him in prison for quite a few years. We left the club to smoke some dope and ended up dating for a while. He was so sexy but had an edge I'd not been exposed to before.

He'd developed a heroin habit before and during his incarceration and I'm not entirely sure that he was off it. I didn't see any but his face had this hollow bony look that I associated with hard core addicts. Clint was a bit hard to figure out. I was developing feelings for him but it wasn't clear to me where he was coming from. It wasn't long before I discovered enough to know what I needed to do. We'd been out with my best friend and his best friend and I guess I thought that at some point they might get together. Through the course of the party they did but then the conversation got a bit weird. Clint suggested that if we were in a really zany mood, we should switch partners later on, just for the hell of it. It was a casual comment and nobody really responded. Later, however, he made reference to the planned switch and I realized he really intended to go through with it. I didn't know what to say. His friend Steve was cute, but also newly out of prison and I just wasn't really into recreational sex. I liked Clint and didn't really want to share him with anyone. But somehow, not voicing concern earlier left me feeling like I'd committed to the experiment by default.

They snuck us into the federal halfway house through the fire escape on the third floor. I think they had found a way to disable the fire alarm on the window and we all climbed in quietly. I was petrified! Weren't there guards downstairs or something? We sat in one of their rooms for a while and then Clint grabbed my friend's hand and I was alone with Steve. We kissed on his bed for a while but it was completely empty. Finally, he confessed that he wasn't into it. He had a girlfriend back home and while he thought I was nice, he felt like it was wrong. I was so relieved! So while my best friend and 'boyfriend' had sex down the hall, we sat in his bed for an hour and talked about how he missed his girlfriend and planned to change his ways. Needless to say, I got out of that involvement pretty quick after that. I was pretty hurt by the whole stupid thing. I didn't really blame my girlfriend, but in retrospect, I realized that Clint had really wanted to sleep with her all along and didn't really have any feelings towards me. Well, live an learn. I still pass by the half way house sometimes and shake my head at the gall we had at 14, sneaking into a federal institution to sleep with 24 year old convicts!

A Walk Under the Radar

2005-06-03T23:40:00.000-07:00

Let's take a walk to the unseen places where children don't tell and there are no witnesses

I'll show you the the thorns, the blood, the fear-infested air - maybe you know this place

The discarded toys, the pleated bedspread, the precious childhood things, all left to turn to dust

Feel no pity for those empty-eyed children, who speak no evil, and show no pain

But if you meet one at the park or riding on the bus, smile or wink playfully

Let just a hint of love fly under their wary radar - reflecting elusive beauty

And know that it's never too late to heal - them... you... me.......

When one is ready, it's never too late to heal

My Ghost

2005-05-30T19:27:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was alone with my lover for the first time
Five months of subtle touches, knowing glances and low conversations
And for the first time, there were no eyes, no cameras, no questions
Just him and me, holding one another and feeling awkward yet closer than ever
I lifted my heels and kissed him, tasting his lips, nibbling playfully at his mouth
And then just as suddenly, nervousness overcame me and I pulled him by the hand
Let's go back to the conference
There's a crisis that's emerged and I'm sure they'll be looking for me soon

We walk back into the registration area, parting without a word or a glance

This is surreal - I do love him though
I'm just frightened of failure, or maybe just of ending up alone again
Honestly though, being with a ghost is kind of like being alone most days
And yet I'm wise enough to know that I'm never alone... and sensitive enough to feel the eternal connection to the teeming life all around me and all around the planet
This will all work out

The Allure of Hose

2005-05-28T00:28:00.000-07:00

Pantyhose pantyhose slide up my thighs
Inviting subtle glances from admiring eyes
Even I can't resist the need to stroke and touch
Without thinking, fingers glide with a whispery rush

A soft hint of protection over delicate warm flesh
A modest containment, such fine silky mesh
Barely a breath between your body and mine
Senses glide along contours, bodies throbbing in time

Push up my skirt curtains and enjoy the main stage
Pull open my blouse so the prima donnas can play
Close both eyes and sense your way to my fire
Open your mind, tear a hole, please your deepest desires

How sweet to be loved in my sheers through the night
With a man who knows how to treat me just right
He takes his time, loves to play and lets me know that he's strong
And while others might unveil, he leaves my hose on

Lost in Space

2005-05-22T22:21:00.000-07:00

One day I'm swept up in the passions of love: lifted, exalted, freed and enraptured

And then, just as suddenly, I'm reserved, standing by, on hold, waiting to see

Is this inconsistency normal? Is it a female anomaly - tied to hormonal surges or the phases of the moon?

Or is it part of the human condition - to be content and connected one minute and then doubtful or indifferent the next?

Maybe the highs wouldn't seem so blissful without the lows, maybe I'd take it all for granted and try less...

And certainly I'd have less to strive for if I experienced only mediocrity in my relationships

Today, I don't know where I stand - the morning after confessing long-term inclinations, telling him that I intend to play for keeps (and immediately wishing I'd kept my mouth shut)...

And then suddenly doubting his sincerity... pondering the depth of his passion

Love me? Love me not? Nurture me or use me up? Make me yours or leave me in the dust?

I'm suddenly lost in space, with no point of reference

Is last week's optimism a mirage, dazzling in the sun? Today's reservation a mistaken play of shadows on the wall? Neither? Both??? ...maybe I'm bipolar

I once heard that the definition of love was "staying together, no matter what"

That sounds like something that wife-beaters and alcoholics invented...

But if I want to break this cycle of revolving relationships, I've got to stay on the merry-go-round for more than a couple of turns, even if I'm not sure where it's going

Even if the horse feels strange beneath me

Even if I pretend not to need anyone, or acknowledge the need but resent it... maybe I'm only capable of detached attachments

I guess a couple more turns won't kill me... It's not like I've got anything better to do

And in a day or two, I'll be in a different space, aching for him, wondering what I was thinking when I wrote this and feeling unstoppable

What My Mother Never Knew #20: Dark Intrusion

2005-05-16T21:23:00.000-07:00

After sitting on the toilet for about 15 minutes, I decided that knowing who was in my bed was more important than any ill fate that might be waiting. I could hear that he hadn't left the room. I had enjoyed the privacy of this room in the basement for a year or so but now I wasn't so sure. But even if my mom did come downstairs, it would be pretty hard to convince her that I didn't know who was in my bed or how he had gotten there.

I cracked the door and tried to peer into the darkness.... but having come from a lit bathroom I could see nothing. I shut the door and turned on the light. Propped up on my pillow with a Cheshire grin on his face was a guy I knew from up the street. A gorgeous guy who sold us dope once in an while -we'd smoked some with him a few weeks earlier up in the park. He was heartstoppingly sexy in a Jim Morrison, "just passing through" kinda way. He was the last person I'd expected to see in my bed, in the middle of the night, with my mother and step-dad upstairs.... I couldn't believe the nerve.

"How did you get in?"

"The back door was unlocked"

Hmmmm..... I stood there taking this image in, his dark tussled hair, his taught bicepts, his inviting smile.

"You look cold. Why don't you come back to bed?"

I stood there in my oversized Black Sabbath t-shirt, feeling completely shy but secretly thrilled that he'd actually noticed me. I turned out the light and got back into bed.

His mouth was warm and sensuous. Some guys couldn't kiss but this one did it justice. He kissed me in a way that I could feel in both sets of lips, his hunger pressing through a probing mouth, exploring my lips, my tongue, my ears and neck... I opened up to this sexual god, allowing him access once again, consciously this time. He was more muscular than I thought and deliberate in his movements. This wasn't some floundering adolescent, desperate to get his rocks off. This was a passionate, sensitive intruder, totally aware of the female body, teasing out moans and squirms, enjoying the reaction almost as much as his own pleasure.

Shadows move under the sheets, legs spread wider as he enters me, slowly, inviting my lips to reach out and encircle him. I'm now fully engaged, he - fully engorged. We hold this sweet moist-plunge pleasure, frozen on the edge of time, such a beautiful sensation. And then slowly, I squeeze my pussy and he pushes in as deeply as I can receive. We move together and apart - he teases, I laugh, I push him away, feigning resistance. And we make love for what seems like hours. And then, just as the nightingales begin their early song, he slips from my bed, grins at me and then exits just as silently as he must have come in. Wow - now I've been truly fucked.

Driving up to Whistler the next day with my family for a ski vacation, I feel the dull ache in my labia that reminds me of my rock-star lover and I hold the memory in like a toke or a snorted line that continues to deliver it's punch long after the party's over. My best friend later confided that my behaviour that night confirmed to her that I was a full-fledged slut (she had actually done worse than that - and more often), but I guess I didn't mind her thinking that. It is still probably one of the most sensuous memories I've carried; well worth the breech of appropriateness. And it's not like anyone else ever knew about it... until now I guess.

What My Mother Never Knew #20: Dark Intrusion

2005-05-16T07:31:00.000-07:00

My recollection of the next year really is just a collection of scattered memories, in random order. Our sole focus was on getting high and of course, guys (but preferably guys with drugs or booze). We picked up tourists downtown if we were broke and they were usually happy to treat us to a bag and a case of beer. I know we frequently let these young hopefuls down by not sleeping with them, but I never really did like sleeping with people I'd just met or people I wasn't in a relationship with.

There was one bizarre night though, just before Christmas when I chose to compromise my values. And when I think back, I'm not sure if I regret it or not. It was very erotic on some level but on the other hand, I wonder if it was a symptom of my own lack of self esteem that I would have even allowed it to happen.

I'd been out with a few friends at a house party where we didn't know anyone. We'd been drinking heavily and when I got home, I passed out almost immediately. Grateful that the bed spin fairy had passed me by that night, I slipped into deep, sedated slumber.

Waking slowly, in a state of disorientation, I realized that I was very horny - and wet. I was in the middle of receiving the most amazing, succulent oral sex and I could feel my hips moving to meet his warm mouth. But becoming more conscious, I realized I had no idea who was going down on me. I sat up with alarm and pulled away from him, an act that seemed a rather feeble attempt at modesty given my passionate moans only moments before. I got out of bed and went to the washroom - trying to buy enough time to figure out what was going on.

Sitting on the toilet, I tried to piece it together.... I couldn't remember anything other than going to bed, alone. And I couldn't figure out who this connoisseur of my vagina might be.

Mediocrity?

2005-05-05T22:40:00.000-07:00

The real me lies in waiting, hidden underneath heaps of procrastination, mediocrity and self-absorption. I turn my back on it daily, accepting my own limitations like badly applied tattoos, just part of the barren landscape of my personality (but not my soul). I ache with a dull awareness of my own exceptional potential, and my own reluctance to move beyond the status quo. I cling to my faults, wearing these old sweaters, so comfortable and frumpy.

I'm not a complete fool though - I know I'm selling myself short. Why not gather my strength and get honest about the places I still take refuge in to avoid reality? There's no reason that tomorrow has to be the same as today - I'm under no obligation to continue to pay homage to my limitations. I deserve more.

I trust the universe to show me the way to my highest potential and I place my faith in my own ability to release the real me. It's there somewhere - it HAS to be there!

Leaving the old me behind, I open my sphere of reality. I say YES to something more.

What My Mother Never Knew #19: In The Dark

2005-05-01T21:26:00.000-07:00

Back in the groove, I found that there were many wild times. Writing about it is bringing many forgotten escapades to the surface - things I've not thought about in years. Given the number of brain cells that I'm sure I fried, I'm shocked at how much I still remember. This is especially true given the state I was in when most of these adventures took place. I still wish I could remember that night with Sean though....

My fourteenth year was a year of many firsts. One of them was a pretty crazy night with two girlfriends. Lenora and I had occasionally gone out drinking and come home quite horny. I confided in her one night that I had actually done it with a girlfriend back East a number of times when I was 11. She wanted to know more - especially HOW we did it. Too difficult to explain, I showed her. She liked it and our lovemaking became an occasional indulgence, usually in the absence of viable males.

One night though, there were three of us. We had been drinking Southern Comfort and Coke all night and were feeling very cozy. My room was in the basement and my mom and her boyfriend were asleep. She and I thought that Jeanie was asleep and began to feel each other's bodies in the dark. Moving together, I felt her moistness on my leg and returned the gesture. Trying to make no noise made it all the more exhilarating. Her breasts were perfect tight eruptions, pressed up against me. I felt like I was drenched in love. Having her on top of me like this made me forget all our bitchy arguments on those nights when we weren't able to score any dope or find someone to bootleg for us.

I could hear her breathing in my ear, and the faintest moan as I pulled her hips closer to mine. And then I felt someone's hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Jeannie, smiling. We'd never spoken about our exploits to Jeannie and I was actually surprised that she wanted to join in, given her shyness and somewhat more conservative approach to risk taking. We moved over and she pulled off her pj's. I immediately let my mouth find her breast while Lenora let her warm slender fingers reach into me from behind. It was sublime, reaching for each other with such little shyness. I'm sure the darkness and alcohol helped a lot. I felt myself near orgasm a few times but held off, wanting to be last.

Entangled, we gave to each other warmly, each receiving full pleasure and then we collapsed on our nest of sleeping bags and lost nighties. It was a really special night, and such an exciting experience. Being with females has always somehow felt safer to me, less spiritually invasive. There was a slight glitch however, which I discovered the next day. I noticed with alarm that a small hole in my closet wall that led to the TV room next door had all the stuffing removed so that you could clearly see into my room! I don't know for sure how long the hole had been unstuffed and enlarged but I had a nagging feeling that my slightly younger brother may have seen much more than he should have. I've thought about asking him but never had the nerve. I'm not sure I really want to know the answer. It's easier staying in the dark...

What My Mother Never Knew #18: Green Knees

2005-04-29T23:59:00.000-07:00

Vince and I didn't last. I became insecure and convinced that he didn't really love me, even after he spray painted it on the school one night. When I saw it the next day "I love Sarah, In the Evening - Led Zepplin, 1981" I was at first convinced that it was another Sarah's boyfriend. When I found out it was intended for me, I somehow felt like it was a subtle boasting of someone who had had me - on many evenings.... I didn't feel loved in any way and broke it off with him after only a few months of being together. He was in a fast crowd and I guess part of me knew that I wasn't ready for the hard partying (or growing involvement in crime) that these guys were involved with.

I withdrew from the whole party scene for a few months after that. I'd picked up a nasty case of pneumonia and wasn't up to the late nights and beachfires at all. I remember how difficult it was to work my way back to smoking cigarettes after that - god it hurt to have a drag. But eventually, the infection cleared and I began to relax my conscience once again.

There was this one guy Sean, who was so FUCKING hot! He rode a ten speed everywhere and did insane wheelies in front of the 7 Eleven where we often congregated. I could barely speak when he was around me and so had never really actually said anything to him directly. One night though, I somehow found myself in a large public park with my best friend, Sean and a friend of his with a large jug of homemade immature wine that I had taken from our basement. I remember about the first bit, passing the jug around and drinking like hillbillies but due to my nervousness, I drank enough sour wine to become completely out of it in what seemed like only a few minutes. The next thing I remember is waking up in the morning, in my bed, fully clothed.

I sat there, my head ringing and pounding, feeling like a smoldering train wreck. I slowly got up and realized I had no idea how I'd gotten home. I couldn't remember anything after the communal wine jug on the hill. Getting out of last night's clothes, I stood in shock, looking at my grass and mud-stained knees. "What the hell???...." I thought to myself. I couldn't quite figure it out although it seems obvious looking back. I phoned my girlfriend.

"What happened last night?" I asked with a shrill tone in my question.

"I'm not sure", Lenora replied. "You and Sean disappeared and then the park security discovered us and kicked us out. I caught the 11:30 bus with Chad."

"Hmmmm," I murmured. And then suddenly, it all became clear. I had a single frame flash in my mind of Sean on his back in the grass, with me straddling him. We were near the Fairy Pond bridge, and he was so drunk that his participation seemed negligible. My GOD! How the hell could I have screwed the guy I've been so nuts about for months and remember only one frame? Shit!

When I saw him a few days later, I smiled and said Hi, but that was all I could muster. I didn't know if he remembered much or any of the roll in the glade, but I could not think of one thing to say to him after that. I also didn't want him to know that I couldn't really remember most of our time alone in the glade. I often wonder where he ended up.... Someone did tell me that he spent most of his 20's in and out of jail. I wish I had retained more of a memory about what happened between us - I don't even know if he was a good kisser! Well, I do have a fond 'almost-memory' anyway....

My Plan to Seduce Him

2005-04-25T23:31:00.000-07:00

When he's finally free to come to me next week, after four months of voices talking, hands touching and passion held in check, what will I do?

I'll warm his soul with roast beef and cornbread and sing to him goofy love songs. When he's fed and relaxed, gazing at me with that wry grin, I'll kiss him with the most minute touch, lips hovering near his, grazing only the edges of his mouth. My golden brown eyes will meet his and though I'll try to stay serious, a Mona Lisa smile will creep across my face. Glossed fingernails will travel the back of his neck and his heart may quicken as I press my curves up against his brick house torso. There's no urgency, I know, but over time, I will show him sweetly that I can love him in ways that he can smell and touch and attune to with senses that he didn't even know he had. If it's been a hard day I'll massage him with peppermint oil under soft candlelight. My hands will wander to untouched places and playful kisses and tiny bites will dart into his hidden recesses. My body and soul will open to his as an offering, a sexual healing, a reunification of lost parts.

I will make him mine in that moment. I will open to receive him completely. I will let him see the real me and I will make him mine.

What My Mother Never Knew #17: Mind-melting

2005-04-18T22:20:00.000-07:00

On some level, I had healthy fear of drugs, particularly those I considered to be chemically-based. This was particularly true after I became psychotic with a bottle of Pam cooking spray back East. But somehow, I gradually became desensitized to the fear.

Our class was heading out of town on a field trip to the Vancouver Science Centre for a day. I was part of an enriched program for kids with higher grades and this trip was one of the bonuses. There were four of us in that class who chummed around and we concocted a scheme to make things a bit more interesting. During the lunch hour, we were allowed to eat wherever we wanted. We decided to try to see if we couldn't buy some pot - why not? We walked and walked and since it was mid-day, there were few sellers to be found. Finally, we got some good advice on where to look and found someone who wanted to do business. He had a strange fuzzy afro, grown long and seemed in a hurry. Unfortunately, he didn't have any of what we wanted and we began to walk away. But he suggested he had something much much better.

I'd never done anything beyond pot and some of the earlier inhallant so was very wary of his product. Purple Microdot, the best acid we would find anywhere, nearly as small as a tiny peppercorn. What on earth would we do with it? My friend Terri had done it before and convinced us this was the only option. So we gave the man our $20 and divided the hits into four equal sections. We all consumed it back at the science centre, in the washroom stall. By this time the tour of the centre was nearing an end and I found myself becoming increasingly impatient and goofy. But when we got on the tour bus, that's when things began to get really nuts. We had this little pac man that wound up and vibrated, hopping along. He seemed to be chattering at us with the same quivery giddiness we all were experiencing. We laughed so hard that there were tears streaming down our faces. The teachers must have been horrified if they actually looked into our eyes for any length of time.

Stopping at a truck stop we all ran to the bathroom and stood transfixed, staring into our highly dilated pupils in the grimy mirror. Nothing seemed real. The science trip seemed to be happening in another time and place, another dimension. And here we were on planet Zoom, ready to climb a mountain. The rest of that trip and much of the night stretched on forever, like a tightly strung elastic that quivered incessantly. The lasting nerve-twisting mind-melting feeling as I was coming down was horrible and I swore that I'd never do acid again.

But of course I did, and I always regretted it and repeated the oath as if I meant it.

My Much-more-than-crush

2005-04-16T16:57:00.000-07:00

Touch me tenderly just once more
Deft strong hands, free to wander and explore
all the plush curves your fingers can find
And it might just ease your troubled mind

Follow your senses to my beating heart
Pausing to explore each new part
A skin on skin meander through this sensuous maze
I willingly surrender under your steady gaze

My pliability wasn't in your plans
Sweet butter melting in your lonely hands
The sanctuary of my body, becoming your turf
Will you honour this gift for all that it's worth?

Your need to nurture me has been a welcome surprise
Comforted by the new tenderness I see in your eyes
Slow cooking, unrushed, farrel tomcat to be tamed
My outstretched hand, waiting patiently to be claimed

Your caress shows me that your heart still beats red
And your hands know where to move, without being led
This space between us shrivels with each thoughtful touch
As I tip over the edge of this 'much-more-than-crush'

What My Mother Never Knew #16: First Love

2005-04-14T22:38:00.000-07:00

That numbed-out horror in the back of that creep's van wasn't the first time for me. I've gotten ahead of myself. The first time was about a year before that and his name was Vince.

We'd been hanging about with a group of older kids who went to the high school which made me feel very cool. Pete had asked me out at some party and he seemed sweet enough. He even let me drive his Charger out on the gravel road leading to the quarry. It was thrilling. I liked him a lot and made out with him profusely when I'd had a few beer. But he was a bit dorky in some ways and I guess I never really started to develop real feelings for him. I didn't quite know how to remove myself from the situation but then things got even more complicated.

His friend Vince had finished highschool and was working at a gas station. We all used to pile into Vince's van and drive out to the falls in the summer. We could do our own thing there as it was out of the way. I remember sitting in the front near Vince listening to Steve Miller- Big Ol Jet Airliner and realizing that I totally had a huge thing for him. I think it was mutual as he was incessantly trying to throw me in the icy water and must have sprayed me with his beer at least half a dozen times (what a waste of good beer). I don't remember where Pete was that day and I also don't think I saw Vince's girlfriend.

I got absolutely blottoed that day, sitting in the sun so long. I don't know how I made it back up the steep embankment to the van without killing myself. Anyway, my feelings for Vince continued to grow and I finally spilled the beans one day to a neutral friend, in tears. The next day I mustered the courage to break it off with Pete - God I hated hurting him like that.

Strangely enough, two weeks later Vince just happened to be driving by my place and asked me out to a movie. I was elated! I don't know how I managed to lure a sexy 18 year old guy with a van and a job. I'm sure I didn't tell my mom the truth about his age but she must have seen the van....

So there was lots of kissing and petting and I had many orgasms rubbing up against him but poor Vince was left high and dry each and every time for weeks. There was no way that I was going to lose my virginity at 13 and I really had no idea about other ways of getting him off. Somehow though, he got it in his head that that meant I'd sleep with him when I turned 14. I'm not even sure I actually said that but somehow I think I felt like I'd committed to it. So on the day of my 14th birthday, Vince showed up, hoping to take me up on my promise. I really didn't expect it to happen that way, under obligation I mean. I guess I thought I might lose him if I didn't put out.

We drove to a secluded beach, and my best friend had to go for a walk on the beach so that we could be alone. It hurt, but he took it pretty slow. I really did love him and felt a bit guilty about all the orgasms I'd had without him to that point. And it wasn't like I hadn't had sex before. I'd had sex with at least two girlfriends by then, more than a couple of times.

So there I was, no longer a virgin in the purist sense, in the back of his Dodge van. I don't know that I felt any more grown up.

That night he ripped a wooden street sign off its post and gave it to me. It had my name on it. At the time I thought this so romantic. I actually carted that old sign around for about 18 years, finally discarding it in my last move. I think I always doubted his feelings for me but somehow that act of vandalism seemed to reassure me that he really loved me. I think now that although he cared, he was too filled with testosterone (and THC) to love in a really meaningful way. After that first time together, sex was pretty much expected with each get-together. That's the problem with starting. I wonder what would have happened with us if I'd actually asked myself what I wanted instead of trying to please him. I'm sure the first time might have been a lot more romantic, that's for sure.

Being a girl wasn't easy then. I'm sure it's even more complicated these days.

A Wonderous Life

2005-04-12T00:12:00.000-07:00

Love unwinds itself from my heart, finding its way out of hairline fissures, blowing it's horn and tapping its toes and I watch with perplexity
I watch myself spin and blush and I feel my body rush as I succumb to an unknown fate
My toes in this love-water have come to life like they've never been alive before, shocking, electric and exuberant, slipping further and further into the passionate springs
And my eyes shine like warm raindrops, melting into luscious glades of peace and gentleness, a soft invitation

My Olympic Iron Man has chinks in his armour - dirt on his cheek and little to offer but his warmth, his humility and a magic ability to create beauty and dream big
His horse is a mule and he carries a heavy load but my tin man sees me with eyes that truly know me,
sensing my soul like nobody else:
The stripped bare, mosaic of broken glass and beads and flowers and burnt embers that still sting
He knows and does what he can to ease my pain - because it eases his pain as well
Of course he sometimes hesitates, gauging the wind, adjusting his saddle, his shield or his strategy, but then he lets the path ahead call him onward, taking my subtle cues along the way

Reborn in love, we tread with fascination and crazy abandonment, falling into this zero gravity void and hoping like hell there is no ground rushing up to grab us
Or maybe we'll sprout wings and follow the next current - I'm sure if we don't look down, we'll be just fine
And I'm sure that this journey, whether together forever or just for a while, will bring me closer to my true self - trusting and loving just a little more, with all my sincerity, and embracing the gift of this wondrous life

Set Yourself Free

2005-04-11T22:19:00.000-07:00

Sweet lady so hurt and so sad
You need to know that it wasn't your fault
It wasn't your fault
It wasn't your fault.

You made mistakes
And you trusted the wrong person
at the wrong time
And you put yourself at risk
But you didn't ask for violation of your most precious self
It wasn't your fault.

And while you may be less naive,
You are no less innocent
No less beautiful
No less pure.

The shame you now bear, a rusted, tangled chain around your throat,
has no power, except that you've given it.

Give it back
Gingerly take it off and give it back.

The shame you think is you is obsolete
Parasitic, it only survives through your belief in it

And the sad, lost look in your eyes speaks of how alone you feel with this burden
But you have the power to let it go
Make a choice, a decision, a commitment to let it go, leave it behind - walk away.

And when you do, you will find that you are not alone
Your pain has blinded you to the love that surrounds you but it's always been there
It's always been there in the warm tenderness of a favourite uncle, the kindness of a stranger, a teacher who nurtured your gifts, or a friend who saw through your false bravado when you couldn't admit you needed help

Let your shame fall away and you will find that you are, and always have been, so pure, so beautiful, so cherished
And you are capable of the greatest unconditional love and compassion, especially towards yourself

You are a healing light in this universe

You've given so much nourishment to others - now turn within and let your love of self bring you peace
If you can do this, your light will shine unfettered, freed of confinement
And reborn, your luminessence will blossom sublime, a golden dewey sunflower bursting forward into each new day, daring to live the life that you've been afraid to even dream about
Live the dream and let the past turn to dust - the winds will carry it far away and you will find yourself
...finally free

What My Mother Never Knew #15: Part Two - Not Alone in the Dark

2005-04-08T18:32:00.000-07:00

Reaching that point of "can't really get any higher", I found myself reeling. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I turned away the reefer before we'd finished it (you have to remember, this was more than two decades ago when weed wasn't as crammed with THC as I hear it is now). But who knows? It could even have been laced with something given how I felt afterward.

I swooned a bit and then stumbled out of the van to offer whatever was fermenting in my stomach to the ditch Gods. Too sick to enjoy the fresh ocean air, I got back into the van and was quickly ushered into the back - 'buddy' was sure that I would feel better if I could lie down for a few minutes.

Within two minutes of getting back in the van, he had my pants down around my knees and curled up in the fetal position. I said no multiple times and tried to move away but it all happened so fast. Suddenly he was inside me, and I tuned out, wondering if I had any hope at all of getting him to at least put a condom on. I mumbled something about it and he said he didn't have one. I spent the next few minutes wondering if there was any cellophane in the van and how it might be used in the place of a condom. This mental gyration kept me in a safe place in some way. Actually, it was like I watched the whole thing from above - the silent spectator. Even now when I tell this story, it's like it was someone else. It wasn't really me was it? Why didn't I cry? I cry now in the telling though - I cry the buried tears of shame and humiliation. But I know its OK. That was a long time ago.

I got my pants back on afterward and moved quietly to the front of the van. I asked him to take me to the bunker, my friends' party basement, where I could stay without too many questions. I was in shock - too fucked up to feel much of anything. But I was lucid enough to think about the possibility of pregnancy and asked him if he could give me a bit of money so that I could get the morning-after pill. I guess he did have a bit of a conscience as he obliged me with a $20 bill before driving off - maybe home to the wife and kids he mentioned. I really meant to use the money for a prescription but somehow, the next day, I bumped into someone with some very sappy smelling bud and I opted to risk pregnancy in favour of comfort.

Somehow pregnancy eluded me and I shoved the whole incident aside. The next day, my friend yelled at me for losing all but one of the beers and I knew for sure, I was hopeless as a human being. I did tell Leah about the creep in the van and she stopped yelling at me about the lost beers.

I know there are lots of assholes out there who pull shit like that. Actually, a few years back one of my mom's ex-boyfriends I bumped into told me he enjoyed trying to find teens who are plastered to have sex with. It's funny that I didn't really think of the incident as rape at the time, even though I repeatedly said no. In my mind, it was more like an accident I got involved in. I mean I was drunk, in the middle of nowhere and got into a vehicle with a stranger. I guess I figured it was my fault. These days I know better. But I don't get into cars with strangers anymore either....

What My Mother Never Knew #15: Alone in the Dark

2005-04-06T23:03:00.000-07:00

It was spring and warm enough for a beach party. We didn't risk a fire as that would draw the cops but we all gathered under the wings of a huge dipped arbutus tree, hidden from sight and protected from the evening ocean breeze. Brice was allergic to alcohol and had brought a bag of weed instead. The rest of us had Adidas bags full of beer - and some wine stolen from cellars or mine-bars. I indulged in all of the above. I'd brought beer but people were high enough not to be worried if I was dipping into everything. I knew it meant a worse hangover but what can I say? It was in my nature to want more of everything.

Pleasantly bombed, I flirted with boys, tried to stop them from smashing bottles and screaming and grabbed our Adidas bag as soon as I saw the cops flashlights. Our party fragmented in all directions and I ended up in a dirt parking lot, trying to walk straight in the glaring headlights of a slow moving van, it's white eyes watching me like a predator in the night. My stomach clenched as I moved past it and confirmed that it was a police van, ready to cart away the most delinquent (or slowest moving) youths. Somehow, I slid past, without capture. I found the main road and headed right. Strangely, I had no idea where I was heading. I'd come with a friend who was so proficient at the bus lines that I never needed to learn them. I had no idea if I was heading g toward town or away but headed along the shoulder with the remaining beers slung over my shoulder. As I later figured out, I was heading AWAY from town and due to a hole in the gym bag, I was leaving a trail of broken beer bottles behind me, too drunk to notice (or too concerned with evasion). The wasted alcohol earned me a severe reprimand from my bossy friend the next day, when we returned to retrieve the remaining beer (of the case, only one survived).

As I walked along that night, alone on the unlit pavement, I looked over my shoulder one last time to make sure the pigs were not in pursuit. A powder steel blue Volkswagen van pulled up behind me and slowed to a stop. A thin hairy man asked me if I needed a ride. I thanked him but said no, and carried along. The van didn't drive off as I'd hoped and 30 feet later, he pulled along side me again and asked if I was sure. I confirmed my false self-sufficiency and moved to keep walking but then he asked if I wanted to go smoke a dubie. Pausing only for a moment, I said sure, and jumped in, flinging the much lighter Adidas bag into the ditch.

We drove to a secluded cove and he lit one up. It was potent and soon I was quite forgetful of the previous stress.

A Deer in the Headlights

2005-03-28T22:58:00.000-08:00

Her hands were warm on my neck, and her breath danced in my ear as she said I love you you know. Weve been friends for twenty one years and share many quirks. One in particular is that neither of us likes to play by the rules. We seldom plan to get together ahead of time it's nearly always spontaneous, and always bohemian in one way or another.

I had asked for a neck rub and she didn't hesitate to oblige. She knew I was feeling lonely for a ghost lover who can't say I love you even though he does, who knows he needs me but won't admit it and who waits patiently to be with me as an unknown fate unfolds.

Yearning to be with someone at a distance leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable, but terribly alive. We've never even kissed.

And now, a friend's warm hands on my body nourishes away my edgy rawness and I feel myself melt into a safe place, there in her loving arms. Her body presses against mine and her hands leave my shoulders, traveling down my biceps, forearms and hands, fingers finally interlacing with my own. After all these years, it feels as if our souls are also interlaced, dancing in and out like a delicate Celtic knot. She and I have shared men, mentored, mothered, challenged and rejected one another at different times.

As her hands move back up my arms I realize that her touch is different, more primal, perhaps more soulful. And then it dawns on me - she had earlier shared that she was ovulating and quite horny. Hmmmmm... I freeze like a deer in the headlights. Horny friend is rubbing my body in tantalizing ways. Feels good, but slightly alarming. Is this where I want go? All I can think is that I've not brushed my teeth. Uggh!

I relax and let her continue - flowing, delicate hands work their way over my back, shoulders, scooping through my hair, along the sensitive sides of my neck and then down the front of my thighs. Oh my god. I think I'm terrified. My pussy is moistening though. She leans in closer and wraps her arms around my waist. I'm terrified that she'll move to my breasts next - what about my fucking teeth? Where's my toothbrush?!!!

I could not initiate this - I'm far too self-conscious. That one time that I invited her to stay with Drew and I, she panicked (something about not having shaved her legs). And now I'm the one who's hesitating, unsure of exposing myself fully to her.

She presses even closer and says teasingly, "You know, if I were a man..."

I reply, "That's not an issue - but I do have a daughter I need to tend to". The invitation is tempting though (I could always ask her to wait while I make sure my girl's settled in to sleep upstairs).

But the truth is, I'm slightly relieved to have an excuse. Despite rampant escapades with other girls in my teen years, I've only been with one woman since I turned sixteen, and only one time. We didn't kiss (but enjoyed a few other exciting forms of contact).

Last night, I was seriously tempted but totally shy. Next time, maybe I'll let go. I'm sure there will be other nights when I'm not playing mom.

Her breasts are lovely, full pieces of art - warm bread dough, waiting to be kneaded. Nothing turns me on more than the thought of a puckered nipple, begging for contact with soft warm lips. I may just let myself go there.
To be continued...

What my mother never knew #14: Herbicide and other atrocities

2005-03-28T21:35:00.000-08:00

We'd met some boys downtown and were invited to go and have some beers in the park with them. As it turned out, they really only had a few and nobody had any cash. We walked around the park in the dark and the guys we were with began bashing the flowers with sticks. It started out with just the odd one. A random swing with a stick or shoe. But they got a real kick out of it and pretty soon, all of the flowers were being massacred. I was with a mob of herbacidal maniacs! Too much festering testosterone I guess.

So we walked along raucously with no particular destination in mind when the two boldest guys came up with a plan to keep the party going. We were to go to a different part of the park and they would beat up some fags that liaised in a certain part of the woods. They'd steal their money and we'd be set. This wasn't a crowd that I'd hung around with much before although my best friend knew them a lot better. I was definitely not into pounding homosexuals. I'd never pounded anyone. I didn't want to be anywhere near it. So my friend and I waited in the playground while the boys went off to be idiots.

When they came back unsuccessful, they had a new plan. This one involved me - and I had no idea how to get out of the predicament. My friend and I were to stand near the park road and stop a car with guys in it, to ask for the time. The plan was that we would flirt with them and lure them into the bushes for promised sex where our thugs would be waiting with a two by four and other implements of welcome. I was horrified - I didn't know how to say no. My girlfriend was all business. She said all I would have to do is stand there and she'd do all the talking. So I did.

I stood there with my heart racing, afraid that I'd be hurt in the process. I stood there in the lights of oncoming cars, a forced smile pasted on my face, like a first time prostitute. I felt like one. A car slowed to get a closer look at us. My friend waved and began to walk over. The car was full as it turned out, and there were girls as well as guys. The rolled down their windows and yelled "YOU FUCKING SLUTS!!!" and other obscenities as their tires screeched away.

That was it. I walked away and refused any further humiliation. I felt I deserved every insult that was thrown at me from that car. I guess I would have felt a lot worse if I'd contributed to someone being beaten and robbed or worse.

What My Mother Never Knew #13: Denial

2005-03-17T22:51:00.000-08:00

There were many times when I wondered what I was doing. But I never wanted out - I just wanted to downplay the nasty parts.

Friends would say "I'm going out to get shit-faced tonight" and I'd wonder how they could be so OK like it was something to be proud of. I knew I was going out to do the same thing but I wouldn't want to SAY it out loud. I knew there was something wrong with mood-altering as a form of entertainment. Just like I knew that there was something wrong with staring into the floodlights at the hospital grounds and then tripping around in a "purple-city" for the next half hour. Or that asphyxiating yourself with a towel, keeling over and grinding your chin on the pavement in convulsions was stupid. I knew but I pretended it was all OK.

I know on some level, it was normal to experiment. The thing was though, we didn't care about anything else. I went from being an honours student to C's in the course of a year. I got drunk to the point of blackout and vomiting every time I drank. I often came to school high even thought it left me with a tremendous headache each and every time I smoked it during the day. There are some things that make me smile when I think back though too. One time I even did acid over the lunch hour and absolutely destroyed a piece of woodwork I'd spent hours on. And the trampolines were very very wild - I nearly peed myself laughing.

There were more beach parties, rowdy boys who seemed to enjoy destroying public property and smashing beer bottles on beaches, mushroom picking expeditions, and mini-bar invasions to concoct sickening mixtures of brandies and liquors. We stole my mother's live in boyfriend's -homemade Portuguese wine (not fit for consumption by any standards) and we scrounged through our parents coat pockets to find any stray fives or tens that might help our cause. It was almost as if we had no conscience, but as I've already said, mine was there with me every step of the way, however desperately I tried to fake it out. One incident left me feeling horribly guilty - but I'll save that for next time.

What My Mother Never Knew #12: Numb in the Bunker

2005-03-08T22:18:00.000-08:00

Changing schools was old hat for me - this was my eighth school due to many moves. Even though I was placed in the enriched program for high achievers, I immediately latched onto the smokers who hung around on the treed hill behind the school. There were many insane times for me in that school - none of my memories involved academics though. Perhaps, after three years there, my grade 10 year-book entry said it all: Goal in Life: To stay comfortably numb.

There were three kids from the same family who were all in cadets. They were all a bit on the dorky side but their parents allowed them to convert their basement into a bunker of sorts. We sat around there butting our cigarette ashes into an empty three foot shell and listening to reel to reel tapes of Peter Gabriel, the Who, ZZ Top, Judas Priest, The Doors and of course, AC/DC and Black Sabbath. This hang out was the centre of many foggy adventures and burnt out mornings. I still don't know why their parents allowed us to hang out there with no supervision - in all that time, I don't remember meeting the parents once! I'll start with my worst memory there and one of my first. The term 'memory' though is a bit of a stretch given that I only recall falling into the hedge in front of the house and being dragged out by some faceless boy. Everything else that I learned about that night, I heard from others at school the next day. Apparently a creepy pimple-faced ass-hole had sex with me in the bathroom all night. I was mortified. Despite my substance abuse, I was a virgin and had no idea what had happened. I felt like running from the school when I heard and wanted to vomit. Could I be pregnant? Was it rape? I went and spoke with the school counselor, in a panic of tears. She was a good listener but in her late fifties, I sensed that she really had no idea what to say. I never felt more alone, and was filled with shame. There was no way I could talk to my mother about it as I would have had to confess to the partying.

Two days later I found out that this hideous kid's brother told two of my friends that the story had been made up - all that had happened was kissing (I was so drunk that I even doubt that). I was so relieved but not necessarily any wiser. My drinking continued, as usual, and vomiting and blackouts were common. Getting booze was easy and somehow we always had enough money to all get quite high. Of course we frequently partied all night, claiming to be sleeping at each other's houses and we were never actually caught. I'm sure I wasn't the only one in my crowd prepared to sell my soul for "the high" but I certainly was at the front of the pack, giving myself completely to this intimate and reliable friend.

Waving

2005-02-25T14:55:00.000-08:00

Torn hose cling desperately to my smilng thigh, escaped flesh dancing – like a sultan’s mistriss

A black knit skirt clings like peach fuzzzz, veiling the latent invitation

But someone knows, maybe he’s onto my scent

I catch his not so furtive glance in the corner of my eye, as I stoop over, knees bent

My fingers linger along the rows of pantyhose Taupe or caramel?Sandal toe or nude?

Sheer silks or smoking coal? I'll take the sheers - my legs sizzle perfectly enough all on their own

The suit moves past again, scurrying back for one last item,

or perhaps another glimpse my way?

This time I let my eyes meet his, a mischievious smile beginning to creep across my blushing lips,

And as I move through the checkout, my escaped creamy thigh waves goodbye ……

(reposted due to accidental deletion)

Put me in your pocket

2005-02-25T14:38:00.000-08:00

You make me giddy and nervous
self-conscious and demure

Submissive and sultry
watery and pure

Your touch makes me sigh
Your drawl makes me purr

Can I crawl into your pocket
And stay deep inside, warm and secure?

What My Mother Knew #11: Kisses and Cat Fights

2005-02-24T21:45:00.000-08:00

The next few years are a bit of a mosaic of late nights, new highs and fast cars.

I began dating a boy from school. We were in grade eight and he was mysteriously quiet, but his eyes were piercing sky blue and he was not shy with me. He spoke with a California drawl and shocked me with stories of gang violence, guns and detention camp. He'd been partying in a beat up Chevy Nova with a bunch of young gang-bangers and one of them shot a handgun out the car window. It ricocheted off a light standard and hit a woman in the head. After he'd finished his sentence, his mother thought that Canada would be a more wholesome environment and sent him to live with his father. Luckily, for me, his father happened to be a dope dealer. We smoked his father's stuff together after school in the forest behind the rec centre. He tried to kiss me with an insistent tongue, prodding my throat like an anteater looking for grubs. It really was terribly gross. He was cute and I loved his accent but I just didn't 'feel it' when we kissed and I ended it as gently as I could. That never feels good.

I had a friend whose father beat her and who also loved to shoplift. She was completely brazen and would take anything without a second thought. Most of the kids in junior high had branded her as a full-fledged witch. While it's true that she did read tarot cards and dress in freaky clothing, she wasn't a witch - just strange. We got drunk one night and ended up arguing about whether or not to follow some boys she'd just met into the forest to party with them. Things got a bit out of hand and we ended up in a total all out girl scrap. It's the only fight I've ever had and it was over quickly. A typical girl fight, there were no punches thrown, only scratching, pushing and lots of screaming - I guess that's why they call them cat fights! We both cried afterward, then hugged and went home.

It was not long after that we moved to a better neighbourhood with a better school. It didn't stop me from getting into lots of trouble though - it just meant access to more home mini-bars and guys with better cars.

Girl Thoughts (Naughty)

2005-02-20T18:11:00.000-08:00

Once in awhile, I find myself alone in the house, with the sleeping cats, the clock ticking and empty vats of time. Oh, there's usually lots of busy things waiting to be done, but with a little discipline, I can avoid my obligations completely and imagine that I'm really living a life of leisure. I might throw on a bit of blues or maybe some Janice Joplin, stretch out and think about my latest love interest or some anonymous passer-by and let my tensions unwind.

Usually the fantasy is pretty incomplete, flashes here and there of images that really get my blood flowing. One that I've returned to many times is a scene from "Emanuelle: Joys of a Woman". Two strangers meet on an airplane and begin fondling each other sitting right in their seats. Eventually they make their way to the bathroom independently and somehow both squeeze into the small space together. The thing that gets me about this image is that the stranger props Emanuelle up on the edge of the sink and thrusts into her, fully dressed. Slowly, deliberately, balanced, with quietness and passion. You see the man from behind, pressing into her, both fully clothed. If I ever join the Mile High club, that's how I want it.

Other times I'll think about being teased incessantly. Kissed or nibbled enough to get me interested but having my partner hold back, depriving me of deeper oral penetration. He might push me up against a wall or a table and let me feel his growing interest through double layers of clothing but deny me full skin on skin contact. I move forward, meeting his body with my warmth but he gives me only enough to make me squirm for more. The yearning tension I feel is almost electric. I love the feeling of hands on my body moving up to my breasts, both screaming to be released from their confines, pushing through the fabric, but meeting only with silky underthings. With fabric in the way, he may have to squeeze a little harder, pinch slightly or even nibble to feel the hardness of my stiff nipples.

Sometimes I never see his face - he stands behind me and I feel him pressing in. Tattooed arms reach around my waist and find their way into the front of my panties, touching only playfully, never quite as deeply as my body yearns for. I feel his breath on my neck and feel the length of his body against my back and I want to turn around but don't. I let him have control, let him work my body, tuning me up like a fast car, too much torque built up and not enough road.

But my flesh is easily understood. Some parts are so sensitive that they can't even be touched directly. But he knows, he knows how to work in gradually, waiting for complete and total arousal before pressing in with more force, demanding of me complete surrender to his will. I reach down and press his hand over my mound more firmly. My knees want to buckle but I stand firm. I want to bend over and let him take me from behind but I don't - it's not what he wants. I let him toy with me until I come, screaming and revealing myself completely. I now feel the bruise on the side of my neck where his bite still stings. I feel his pent up desire, pressing through jeans, asking - no, demanding to be seen and felt.

I reach around and indulge his member the full priveledges of my warmed up hands, moist with my own wild screaming juices. On my knees, I gently tease him, only the tips of my fingers at first, caressing from the base of his shaft to the tip, and then back again, slowly, tenuously. I look into his eyes, to see if he approves, but they're closed so I continue. I form a soft, warm funnel with both my palms and let it slide gently down his length. He begins moving with me, and I let the pressure increase and decrease at the head, which is practically glowing with heat. I cup his tightened balls in one hand and gently squeeze, prodding, encouraging further engorgement. I let my other hand form a narrow canal, and as I slide up and down he begins to breathe faster and harder. I press on, moving my breasts up higher so they can brush against his thighs and prepare to be drenched in his sweetness. His eyes meet mine then and I know he's ready. Slowly, but firmly, I squeeze, still moving up and down but subtly now. His leg muscles stiffen and his come finds it's way to my breasts, my lips, my hair. I'm warmed by his soul's essence, reveling in his heat.

What My Mother Never Knew #10: B-Cubed

2005-02-16T22:58:00.000-08:00

I also discovered that summer the joys of beach parties. It was pretty wild, out in the middle of nowhere, waves lapping at the shore and what seemed like an infinite supply of alcohol. It wouldn't have mattered if there was less though - my tolerance was pretty much zero. The first time I got drunk, I recall the swigs of Southern Comfort out of a bottle - the burn of the alcohol going down my throat was exhilarating. Teary eyed, I choked back a few more swigs, a beer or two and very quickly I was done - toasted. I'm sure I kissed someone - a guy I didn't know - but the kiss quickly devolved to him holding me up so that I wouldn't fall into the bonfire. The rest was a bit of a blur (well, a blackout is likely a more accurate description). As with most beach fire parties, the cops came and we scattered. Back in town I have no idea how I made it through the door without parental inebrial detection. My 12 year old would never get away with that and I've got no idea how I managed it. Having a room in the basement helped I guess. Nobody could hear me puking.

B-Cubed: Beachfires, booze and blackouts - I don't remember much of it, but I'd have sworn that it was the time of my life! Right from the start, I jumped into the experiment with total abandon. I really do wonder what my mother would have done if she'd known.

She had just started a new teaching job and was eager to impress her colleagues and make a name for herself - the whole reason for moving out West. I recall one of the staff family parties that was held in the posh faculty lounge that year. My brother had switched the signs on the punch bowls so that the kid's punch became the adult punch and vice-versa. He and I couldn't stop giggling in the car on the way home and we finally confessed. My normally liberal mother was appalled. With a furrowed brow that she only gets when she's really agitated, she mused that she thought a few of the kids were unusually wild. In fact one or two were actually rolling around the floor giggling....

What My Mother Never Knew #9: Moving at Light Speed

2005-02-13T21:15:00.000-08:00

Catholic school was a bit weird considering that I'd never been to church. I went along with the expected rituals, buying a white dress for my first communion and confirmation. I had no idea what it meant although I did attend the orientation session explaining what I needed to bring and how I should act. The Italian and Portuguese kids must have found out what it really meant from their parents. And I didn't bother with the first confession - I saved that for here...

It wasn't long after, that my mother accepted a job out West. We were moving to BC. I knew what that meant: better looking guys (we'd seen a BC baseball team and were convinced), lots of easy access to weed and great skiing. I was thrilled to be leaving small town central Canada.

It never occurred to me that leaving my father would be difficult. I was so busy focusing on the excitement of a whole new life that I really didn't consider what I was leaving behind. My mother flew ahead to find a place and get things set up and my brother and I stayed with my dad.

I'd only seen my dad cry once - a few years earlier when my six year old brother sacked him accidentally. He immediately fell to the floor, turned all red and went stiff, with tears streaming into the carpet. Seeing his face that morning at the airport, as he hugged us in the boarding lounge was heart-wrenching. I didn't know how to tell him it would be OK, or how to comfort him at all. The image of tears streaming down his face stayed with me forever - a strong, normally somewhat stoic man. I know this might sound like a contradiction to my last chapter - feeling such strong love for someone who'd hurt me, deep in my soul. But I did love my dad a great deal. I still do. And at that time, I hadn't really put two and two together around the sexual abuse (it had happened at a much earlier age). Walking down the tube leading to the airplane, all I knew was that he loved my brother and I immensely and must have hated my mother for moving us away. I cried too, but I knew we'd be back for visits. And what lay ahead quickly captured my attention.

Landing out West was amazing. I'd never seen so many sea gulls and the smell of the salt air and sea weed was invigorating. We rented an old house which turned out to be full of spiders and next to a practice pad for a rock band. I loitered about outside, hoping they would invite me over to listen or indulge in some of the atmosphere enhancing odours drifting over to my yard. I guess they weren't interested in getting 11 year old girls high for some reason! I'd even tried turning up my Meatloaf and Boston LPs full volume, just to show I had good taste in music...

I ended up hooking up with a girl a few years older around the corner. She invited me to go to a roller-skating rink with her and that became my source of summer fun. We were wild, a hoard of kids, most in the 15-17 year old range. We frequently did our skating outside of rink, along waterfront, in cemeteries or on the streets. Times were fast and I did my best to keep up. The girl I'd hooked up with wore the shortest short shorts I'd ever seen and talked me into making mine a little more revealing. The attention we got from passing cars as we skated in the sun intoxicated me (but still made me blush with embarrassment too).

Sometimes, if we were too tired to skate home she'd call a cab and we'd get a ride. I was always dropped off first. It wasn't until quite a bit later that my friend confessed that the reason we always had the same driver was that she requested him specially because he gave her free rides in exchange for her giving him head! I had to work really hard not to look shocked when she told me. I wanted so much for her to think I was more grown up than 11. But I guess the truth is, I was growing up at break-neck speed. The friends I'd left behind out east would never believe some of the crazy stuff going on out here.

Somewhere Through The Hurt

2005-02-09T23:00:00.000-08:00

"I've discovered the paradox that I can love until it actually hurts.
But then the hurt is gone and there is only more love."
Mother Theresa

True love is elusive, it's escaped me for years
I sometimes flirt with it, but calls of freedom always reappear

With each new love, my world opens, dissolving sense of self
And I let my suitor merge, with macho bravado and stealth

Men feel they have earned me, possessed me through the night
Sweet lovemaking masquerade, an illusion cloaked in light

But the secret pain I hold is old - it's worn and cold as stone
A dark empty place deep in my soul, where I will always be alone

It's guarded and booby-trapped, though I may let some near
Soul wounds and scar tissue are much too thick to tear

So I wait for one special knight, he with the sharpest blade
I brush away the tears, and pretend I'm not afraid

With hopes that my saltwater will corrode these deformed prison bars
And the next time I fear love, I'll move closer, not apart
And just maybe, if I'm lucky, perhaps I'll find the truth:
That the path to "more love" waits, somewhere through the hurt.

Hearts on Fire

2005-02-08T23:21:00.000-08:00

Lovers apart, soul-linked but unfulfilled
Waiting, in limbo, on the edge of a precipice... or an oasis

I held your hand last week and you warmed up, ready to run, but staying with me and revealing your truth

And I sat quietly with my doubts, letting them drift gently out to sea with the salty off-shore breeze

The buzzy warm glow I feel is almost palatable, an effusive radiance, moving like the waves of mellow heat from a nest of embers

I can sense our growing soul-connection - feel it in my skin and breath, instinctively nurturing it like a sleeping babe, safe and comfortable in a mother's arms

For a moment the other day, I forgot myself, letting my lips find you and reveling in the friendly reverbrant sting from your five o'clock shadow

I know we agreed to contain this for the time-being, or discourage it, or not encourage it

But can this kind of longing be denied? Can it be told to wait for a better time?

The 'unknowns' have settled in - taking only a peripheral seat in my consciousness, now a dull-edged threat

I'm ready to accept the odds for now - I'm prepared to take whatever bitter pills that fate dispenses later, if that's where this road leads.

Perhaps though, it may lead us toward something more hopeful, something that's right

Either way though, I'll have lived fully
and if I'm lucky,
I'll have loved well

2005-02-07T23:52:00.000-08:00

Are you strong enough to be my man?
Lie to me, and I'll believe
Sheryl Crow

What My Mother Never Knew #8: Nice Ass

2005-02-06T23:50:00.000-08:00

It's hard to describe the inner world that I experienced as a young adolescent. There were reasons that I seldom looked people in the eye. There were reasons that I was filled with shame when boys first began showing an interest on the Catholic school ground in grade 7.

"HEY LEMANS - NICE ASS!!" (I was wearing a jacket with the Lemans Ferrari racing logo on the back). I thought I would die.

The next week a number of boys had me surrounded, grabbing my butt and squeezing my tender breasts. I managed to evade them but the next day, they returned, this time getting rougher and pinching at me. I finally ended up telling a teacher and each of the boys was given the strap. They had totally violated my dignity but still, I felt bad for them. Somehow, I felt like I'd done something to provoke the whole thing. I was even too embarrassed to tell my mother.

I've learned a lot about myself since then and what I know now is that feeling violated and ashamed that day was simply a repeat of events that took place much earlier on in my life. I had been prematurely introduced to my sexuality by my father, when I was too young to know what was right and wrong. While it wasn't violent, it scared me to the point of paralysis (at the time) and left me feeling confused about sexuality and uncomfortable with sexual attention from members of the opposite sex. It also left me with a sense of shame about my own sexual feelings and an extreme distrust of men. I saw them as dangerous and consuming.

I'm sure I wasn't totally aware of all this baggage at 12, but I carried it nonetheless. There were many other family secrets that contributed to some of my emotional wounding - too many to describe here. And it's hard to describe them without sounding like a victim. I now recognize, after many years of soul-searching, that who I am is based on the suffering and successes I experience growing up. And I guess the bottom line is, while I wasn't responsible for my childhood family disfunction, I did have choice as to how I coped with or dealt with the impacts. This is important context to the next few years of my life.

NOTE: I have to step out of the story for a moment to say something here that's very important: To all the pedophiles that have stumbled upon this site (I know there are more than a few based on the searches that refer people here) - sexual activity with children damages their souls, wounding their sense of self and destroying their chance at normal relationships later in life. It's hurtful, selfish and shameful, no matter how you try to rationalize it.

FUAN

2005-01-29T19:34:00.000-08:00

Why is it that my emotions consume me, destroying my composition with such ease?
Feelings spew forth, tossing me back and forth and then just as suddenly they stop to cradle me gently in nurturing arms
Some people simply observe the passing states of emotion, like traffic on a downtown street
But not me. I wrap myself up tightly in this feeling or that feeling, creating a self-imposed straight jacket of entanglement, trying desperately to understand the irrational
I'm a constant eruption - of joy - sadness - fear - love - desire. It's unstoppable.
I know that when I allow myself to move into a feeling, without judging, projecting or attempting to manipulate in any way, intense emotion generally passes over me quickly
When I am the observer, I can see things from a higher perspective.
I feel less attached to particular outcomes.
I can trust in what's happening as right and valuable to my constantly evolving self
I wish had a button that I could press to activate that kind of detachment.
I wish I had that now.
Today I sit paralyzed, unable to make things balance out, waiting for some revelation
FUAN: Fucked up and Neurotic
It's a good thing I'm going out dancing tonight!

It's a Girl Thang

2005-01-29T01:24:00.000-08:00

The angel of Femininity inspires me, with sweetness and love...

I honour her through...
Lip gloss, boots and silky things
Singing Lanslide and realy feeling it inside
Charming smiles that put others at ease
Flirting and fantasizing
Knowing my power and owning completely
Bringing home the bacon
Feeding the people I love
Being there for a friend
Dancing until I drop
Believing in my man no matter what
Sitting with my child when she's sick
Facing my fears
Feeling the earth
Opening my heart
Loving life and
...having goofy girl fun

What My Mother Never Knew #7: Pinball Ally Drug Deals

2005-01-27T22:44:00.000-08:00

I recall after that first time trying to buy a joint at a pinball arcade. I think my friend was actually the one who had the courage to do it. I don't remember actually smoking it. Actually, I'd rather not remember the details. It's funny how even though I haven't used that stuff in many years, I still feel a strange pull if I think about it for too long. I guess the thought of a quick dose of "peaceful easy feeling" will always toy with me. The thing is, the peaceful easy feeling was short lived, resulting in a crash when the high wore away and for the most part, it never quite met my expectations. The whole fumbling attempt at finding bliss was also fraught with paranoia, depression, drunken blackouts and many other less than rewarding experiences.

I spoke with my mom about pot around that time. I wanted to know why I had found it in her purse. Why was there a roach in the china gravy boat on the fireplace mantle? I'd sniffed it a hundred times, curious about the scent and why people thought it so alluring. My mom's explanation was that some people indulged once in a while. Like having a drink or two. She also warned that for some people experimenting with drugs could lead to more dangerous drugs, psych wards or addiction. My mom explained that my uncle had had a problem with alcohol and that it might be in my genes. She was of the mind that soft drugs like pot were OK as long as you used them and they didn't use you. This foreknowledge later saved my life.

What My Mother Never Knew #6: Quest for Nirvana

2005-01-25T01:39:00.000-08:00

I hope it doesn't sound as if I'm glorifying drug use. It's just that initially, I really felt I'd found the answer to all my problems. As I mentioned, I was a deeply sensitive child; anxiety and painful shyness had haunted me for much of my childhood. Teachers raising their voices to me left me feeling withdrawn and weak. Finally, I closed myself off like a turtle pulled into his shell, just hoping to be avoided by oncoming traffic. At home, my voice had been unheard, dishonoured and even squashed to the point where I had nothing to say. I had even grown to victimize myself in the same ways that I'd been victimized as a younger child - I told myself I was not good enough, not important and not loved. I told myself that I was worthless.

Drugs allowed me, for just a brief instant, to feel a sense of peace and relief from the heavy burden of shame I'd been carrying. They gave me courage where I'd had none and allowed me to bond with friends in a way that felt deeply familial. Those were my first deliberate steps away from the hurts of my past, away from my self-absorbed mother and towards what I considered to be the most beautiful sunrise I'd ever seen. I was certain that Nirvana could not be far away.

What My Mother Never Knew #5: Halleluiah!!

2005-01-21T01:24:00.000-08:00

The night after that first joint we wandered the neighbourhood in a daze, awake and dreaming. Of course we thought this was God's gift to humanity - and it was so much gentler than the inhalant we'd been using previous weeks. We were at the playground, still children in so many ways.
Are you high?
I don't know, are you?
I feel like I'm dreaming...
My friend definitely was not herself as she took her shirt off and went down the slide in her bra. I laughed hysterically. The rest is a blur but I recall it being one of the most freeing experiences of my life. I struggled with shyness and shame. I'd been through so much by the time I turned 11 - the grass set me free from all my anxiety, it allowed my inhibitions to slip away. I let them melt into the sand at that playground. It was as if I'd been reborn.

What My Mother Never Knew #4: Stashed Secrets

2005-01-19T01:19:00.000-08:00

There were a number of secrets that I had stashed away at that time. For instance, I knew about my mom's stash.
We found the baggie one day in her purse along with her lipstick and cheque book, acting quick to pilfer as much as we could without notice. We didn't know quite what to do with it and had only taken a few rolling papers. So we decided to practice with newspaper and grass (the green kind from outside). It was awkward and the joints looked more like cigars but eventually, we made some sense of the process and switched to the tissue-like papers.

We smoked the first one in the house, in my mom's bedroom, hanging out the window. It tasted vile but we forced ourselves to complete the whole joint. It was probably mild compared to the harsher chemicals we'd been trying but it still felt like a daring 11 year old act of defiance. And if a professional educator and mother could have this stuff in her purse, why not us? We were becoming women of the world after all, weren't we?

We had other secrets of our own stashed away. My friend and I were being paid to take care of a neighbour's plants while she was away. There were many plants and getting to all of them was an ordeal. But every second day for three weeks we diligently put our fingers in the soil to check for thirst and responded accordingly. It was wonderful to have this escape pad to retreat to. We smoked a few cigarettes from a package that was left on the kitchen counter. We played the Doobie Brothers:

Old black water, keep on rollin'
Mississippi moon won't you keep on shinin' on me?
Yeah, keep on shinin' your light, gonna make every thing
Pretty mama, gonna make everything all right
And I ain't got no worries 'cause I ain't in no hurry at all
Well, if it rains, I don't care, don't make no difference to me
Just take that street car that's goin' up town
Yeah, I'd like to hear some funky Dixieland and dance a honky tonk,
and I'll be buyin' everybody drinks all roun'-------

We even got funky on her bed one time. "Did you get yours?" she said. "Yeah. Did you?"... "MMMMM"... smiles. "I've got homework - help me straighten up this bed. I'd die if she knew we were in here."

We laughed about our brazen act later, but really, it wasn't that risky. The lady was in Mexico - it wasn't like she was going to walk in. Still, the fear of possible discovery was exhilarating! Lying side by side, pleasuring ourselves, hearing each other's breathing quicken and knowing we were in a strange place listening to someone else's records - it was a total turn-on. Sure, it was a bit on the irreverant side... but you're only young once right?

What My Mother Never Knew - Chapter 3: First Kiss

2005-01-16T22:10:00.000-08:00

It was about this time that I had my first real kiss. It wasn't a Truth or Dare kiss - it was a kiss with the cutest shiest boy who I thought hadn't even noticed me. We were playing hide and go seek in the dark in a friend's basement. He took my hand to show me a spot to hide and the next thing I knew we were kissing. It was a blind kiss - touch, smell and sound only. I still remember his 14 year old peach fuzz upper lip. I was only 11 but responding as a fully functioning female. His hand ripped away from my training bra as the lights suddenly flicked on. I blushed but nobody had seen us. We crawled out from under the desk and there were snickering looks in our direction. I didn't feel any different than I had prior to the kiss. But I couldn't wait for the next one.

The boy was so cute - I still remember the smell of his jean jacket. He had shoulder length curly brown hair and a penetrating smile, like he was always taking stock. He always seemed to have a smoke dangling from his mouth and pretended not to be enamoured with me after that first kiss. But I knew better. Each time we were alone, or at least hidden, he would move closer, always seeming to expect me to back away. I wasn't shy with him though, I could sense his curious longing. I kissed him once standing behind a shed while the other kids were goofing off near the park. It was the first time I'd kissed him standing up and each time my mouth met his, he let out a small gasp and his knees buckled. I actually remember trying to hold him up so he wouldn't collapse!! I suddenly came to realize a new power. I was in awe of what it did to my body as much as his though.

When I let him know I was moving out west at the end of the school year, I could see his disappointment. He said I'd lose my virginity before I turned 15. That was a generous estimate it turned out. But more on that at another time.

You're Not Alone

2005-01-16T01:11:00.000-08:00

It's been a long and lonely walk you've been on...

Come in from the cold and warm your aching bones
Let me share with you my gentle refuge of incense and tea.
I hear your despair, desolate heartache and disappointment with life
And your hurt rings with the stark truth of a gritty old blues tune played on an beat up six string guitar
Does it ease your suffering to know that I feel your pain and accept you completely?
When I look into your solemn eyes, I know that your hurt is no different than mine,
Backpacks full of marred childhoods, poor choices and sour lovers - so compressed that we think they've become part of us
The shame and self-disappointment becomes hidden away, like subtle quartz veins tucked within the bedrock
Know that I'm here if you want to dig, bringing light to bear on your woes
Fear no judgment here, for above all, I honour your courage, your earnestness and especially your trust in me
If you need it, please accept my soulful embrace
It won't heal your wounds but perhaps it may relieve the sting.
At the very least, it will affirm your absolute worthiness of love and compassion and leave you knowing that you are not alone.

What My Mother Never Knew: Chapter 2 - Preteen Insanity

2005-01-15T18:44:00.000-08:00

We really had some wild times. It was a time of total self-empowerment really. We were taking matters into our own hands. We wanted to try every new experience that we could call our own - powerful secrets kept from our parents. We used to sit around asphyxiating ourselves with towels and passing out. It was exhilarating to be on the edge like that. I liked being out of control.

I remember seeing a bunch of kids sniffing Pam Cooking spray in someone's basement. I thought they were nuts - risking their lives, their brains. And then within weeks the group of kids that I called friends were trying it and I was not to be left behind.

The first sniff was crazy - like a warm blanket running through my veins. My soft tissues felt hot and I could hear music, always changing, dangling music that was beautiful. We continued this dance with an aerosol bottle many times, many headaches and red oily noses... I'm mortified to think that my daughter is now 11. I remember my second babysitting job - there we were, searching the basement for inhalants while the kids watched TV. Something should have tweaked then. Something was very wrong and I was a kid who knew what was right and what was wrong. It was wrong but I couldn't stop myself. I'm lucky to be articulate enough to even write this... I'm lucky to be alive.

The last time was something I'll never forget. What I mean is - I'll never forget coming to afterward-most of the experience is a blank. I'd been psychotic - smashing my head in some cupboard doors and becoming completely insane. One of us was straight - babysitting the rest of us I guess. I sicken to think what we were doing and how one of us could have stood and seen that. My first memory was answering the door - a friend looked in horror at the blood running down my lips and the misalligned front tooth. I later told my mom how I'd tripped while running and hit my face on a curb. The upper tooth never did recover and is now covered with a crown.

It was so long ago now, and yet I remember some of it so clearly. I remember feeling sick with shame yet anxious to find even further escape. I wanted out of my self so badly that I would risk death. There's lots more to that story but I'll come back to that later. Let's just say that it was the beginning of me trying to take charge of my own direction - I guess I thought it was better than where I had come from.

Little did I know how bad it would get.

What My Mother Never Knew - Chapter 1

2005-01-13T23:20:00.000-08:00

We were older than girls and younger than "young women". Fearless 10 year olds - trying to figure out where we fit in an exciting limitless world. We asked my mom what a BJ meant, knowing already but wanting her to say it. She didn't flinch until we asked her if she had ever given one... then she changed the subject.

Those days were crazy - hot games of truth or dare with long boy kisses under the covers (wasn't it supposed to feel - like, good or something??); choking back those first cigarettes in the storm drain under the highway; teasing a social misfit until she cried. I don't know how we decided what was appropriate and what was not. When I look back, there don't seem to be any clear boundaries. How on earth did Sue show me how she masturbated that first time? Who started that conversation? Did I initiate that first mutual bump and grind? We didn't even know what the word bisexual meant - we were just kids, testing the boundaries.

Sex quite quickly became a mutual interest. We found a box of old books: The Happy Hooker, Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About Sex But Were Afraid to Ask, Fanny, The Surrogate Wife, Fear of Flying - we devoured them all. Suddenly, children of the sexual revolution, we embraced all realities as the norm. We never did figure out how someone could get a lightbulb in his rectum but we knew that if we could just grow up a little faster we would find out what it meant to find your G Spot. I mourn my lost childhood now when I look back. It seems that I was so quick to shed my innocence.

Tatooed Dreams

2005-01-12T16:52:00.000-08:00

Something small and beautiful has begun sprouting in the corners of my soul
Its sweet smelling and pure, like baby blue crocuses in the spring, surprising me with their keen arrival
I didn’t ask for these new feelings to show up – and they didn’t knock before coming
Yet I watch them infiltrate my inner sanctum with interest, curiosity and trepidation
Your face lingers in my thoughts, your strong hands ask to be touched, your smiling eyes melt me with their warmth
I flirt with the fantasy of being near you, allowing my hugs to linger and whispering secret longings into your ear
But I don’t dare – there’s far too much at stake, for you and your future – and for me and my fearful heart
Such a risk can’t be worth taking.
But what then can I do? Do I continue to pretend that I don’t wait expectantly for the times when I’ll see you again or that I’m not disappointed when you aren’t able to come?
Do I continue to act appropriately cordial and friendly?
Do I ignore the fact that I miss you the minute we part and that the feeling of emptiness echoes into the days that follow?
I wish I could beckon for you to meet me at the dock at midnight and spend the night under the stars
I wish I could talk to you about everything we’ve ever thought about
I wish our lives were different and that we had met each other in the supermarket or the bookstore
But your tattoos, like battle scars, tell a story of thick skin, hardened highways and broken dreams
I do see that you’ve changed and I see that you are on the brink of being birthed into a fresh new world, ready to set things right
I’m inspired by your earnest desire to be better, to succeed, and I’m touched by your humility and acceptance of reality’s hurdles
But bittersweet wisdom tells me that the timing and circumstance are off-kilter and that anything started now would be imbalanced and unfulfilling…
Yet I’m not giving up completely
Maybe some day, when things are different, you can call and ask me out to a movie or dinner – or for a midnight walk on a moonlit beach…
I’ll cook for you and we can wash dishes together and laugh about our flawed lives
This nurtured dream will keep - long enough for you to emerge from your cocoon, find your footing and lick your wounds
When you’re strong, steady and ready – I’ll meet you half-way, as equals and as true friends
We’ll let things unfold naturally and maybe we’ll find out for sure if this growing sense of promise can actually bear fruit that’s sweet and succulent

The Quiet Places

2004-12-14T23:46:00.000-08:00

In the dim light of evening my boots graze the dew on the grasses that line the path leading to the forested park.

The quiet shadows can hear my deep breath, and feel the emerging steamy fog as it meets the fresh, crisp air of the twilight.

This long road leading into the park always waits for my arrival, and the stretching trees call me into their evergreen bosom, to the deeper folds of the darkened forest.

I move on, wanting to go deeper, into the dark moist quiet soul-trees but the closer I get to the darkness, the more my vision fades.

Instincts overrule and I snake along the peripheral of the blackness, flirting with the mystery but staying just out of reach.

There is stillness in my movement, a quiet stillness that asks nothing and gives everything.

It speaks to me softly, caressing my spirit and cleansing me of the stresses and worries of the day.

If the moon tries to follow me, I sing to it and the rhythm of my step finds its way into my song as I lose my shyness and sing without reservation.

Inevitably, my snake loop brings me back to the cars, the headlights and boomboxes.

Waiting for the break in traffic, I often feel a yearning to keep walking, for miles or maybe even days.

I might find myself on the top of the Strathcona Mountains or perhaps gliding through the shale beaches on the west coast.

The traffic breaks and I cross the road, to the driveway that leads me back to the dishes, the homework help and the laundry.

But I bring the quiet places through the gate with me, tucked deeply into my fleece pockets. And I know that the forest still rings with my footsteps and song, burying my discarded burdens in the musty humus.

2004-12-12T14:38:00.000-08:00

Blogaphobic: Fear of Blogging; fear of exposure; of baring one's soul; of bringing light to bear...
Barely keeping it together;
The unbearable weight of one's own thoughts - circular, familiar, predictably self-absorbed.
Unfulfilled? Under-nourished?
Underestimated.
Mis-understood.
Are mundane neuroses worth the ink it takes to write them? Or the watts it takes to start the computer?
Is there anyone listening anyway?
Will this blog hang out there, an empty echo of self expression?
Thoughts ejaculate... effused and embalmed in bits and bytes...
Ultimately alone yet intimately embraced
Freed once more, I linger in the ritual post-coital embrace, returning to the final posting with self-satisfaction and completion, my truth finally revealed.
Suddenly, readership is irrelevant.
Complete self-expression attained, I am able once again to move on.

ON AMBITION, SUCCESS and ENLIGHTENMENT...

2004-11-28T23:18:00.000-08:00

Needing to be the best at what I do - and wondering, am I too driven?
Wanting to have the means to travel the world, live well, to play and to share - yet am I just another brainwashed consumer?
Finding the strongest guy, with influence, testosterone and the respect of others - am I a slave to the myth of the Alpha male?

I intend on saving the world or at the very least, doing one or two things that are very very amazing - am I suffering from illusions of grandeur?

Is it too much to ask? For me to say I want it all? Am I selfish to think that I could be so blessed?

I challenge myself to greet others with the same unconditional love and compassion that Jesus would have, or Mohammed, or Buddha, or Santa...
I mean to find enlightenment, in this lifetime.
And I aim to watch less TV, take the dog for longer walks, floss my teeth, call my grandmother more often and start composting...

Can my lofty dreams co-exist with the mundane?
Can I want more yet also hold a deep reverence for who I am here and now?
Can I be profound and insignificant in my human beingness?
Can I hold ultimate wisdom and absolute un-knowing at the same time?

These points of tension are the birthplace of my creativity.
The mystery of this dichotomy tantalizes me daily.
I strive to find a theory of everything that applies to my own complexity and am left with only wonder.

PH

"The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people are so full of doubt." - Bertrand Russell

10 Rules for Staying Sane (in 25 words or less)

2004-11-25T19:52:00.000-08:00

To make up or that horribly nasty last blog entry...

10. Expand the mind
9. Don't panic
8. Trust someone
7. Release regrets
6. Embrace change
5. Honour imperfection
4. Laugh loud
3. Unleash Love
2. Dream big
1. Breathe

Shedding Pretence (Naughty)

2004-11-20T23:09:00.000-08:00

When we first met, I thought I knew myself - but through the years, and the tears, I found out what I lacked, what I needed and I came to know

Exactly why I withered - I felt like a yawning cavern, deep and penetrable but unbearably suffocated

There was a time when I loved him, like a child with a new train set - the excitement of new and unknown filled me with adventure and anticipation

But once the pieces were all in place, once our lives had become interlocked, once the last spike was hammered in as we took our biblical vows, I began to wonder what lay around the next bend.

This life was the closest approximation to the one I had imagined and expected for myself:

Marry well, bear a few tender babes and cultivate a career. It really was a piece of cake - cinnamon, apple spice pound cake.

But it wasn't enough. I knew that now.

~

His eyes met mine across the candlelit linen tablecloth, crisp and white like the chef's starched cap, toppling over like a fallen mushroom

We finished our coffees in silence, but anticipation surrounded us, like a third dinner guest, waiting to be served the main course.

He and I both knew that this clandestine encounter was not about the shrimp bisque, or the prime rib or the crème caramel,

Although the golden honey, flowing down both sides of the jellied fleshy mound was certainly an erotic scintillation at its best!

My thighs moved, slipping like pale silk bed sheets as I crossed my legs, resisting the urge to rub my thighs together, close my eyes and moan out loud.

He knew that like the crème caramel, my juices were smooth and sweet, begging to be tasted and lightly sipped - unspoken nuances had made the charted course quite clear.

After we left the restaurant, as we drove onto the highway, I lifted my pale blue skirt that had been gently caressing my thighs and buttocks all night.

It was more than I could bear - I exposed myself completely.

His long hands reached over to explore but were quickly deflected - this was my game and he was to watch.

Moving to expose more of my inner folds, I slipped my fingers over my hooded clit, amazed that such an unbearable need could be compressed into such a small place.

Concerned that I might drip on the leather seat, I swabbed my moist crevice with two fingers and let him have a taste.

I heard the slightest rev of the engine as I removed my fingers from his hungry mouth. I prompted him to open his eyes again and avoid driving the car over the curb.

Quickly, I moved my hand back to my own engorged lips and spread them apart. It took all my self-control not to close my thighs and grind my hand into my needful pussy.

He watched me, wanting to pull over but daring himself to continue driving as he squirmed behind the wheel, listening to my quickened breathing and wondering if I would taste as good as I smelled.

By that point though, I'd lost awareness of my companion, the car and the road. Fingers moving deftly, as they had many times before, I was soon thrusting madly up and down, in and out.

I thought of the gear shift and my screaming need but flashed back to urban myths of women stuck in locked cars after having been given Spanish Fly. That was a line I wouldn't cross.

Instead I let both hands move together to apply full, pressure to my lips, labia and clit all at once. The heat began to surge in waves.

I fell over the precipice fully, screaming in the freefall gush of my own doing, hands frozen in place, all muscles taut and fully interrupted.

The orgasm was unifying - all encompassing: my body, spirit and mind, fully captured, alive with a kaleidoscope of sensation and release.

I looked over at my lover, laughing with embarrassment and a natural high.

He pulled over and put his seat back, ready to dive headfirst over the waterfall, as my mouth engulfed his patiently waiting and fully-charged cock.

The slightly salty taste let me know that he was ready and my hands moved in to guide him over the edge.

But I was the one who got wet, as he spurted powerfully, forcibly, masterfully.

The lights of a passing car moved by and then became small and distant, leaving us alone once move, fully unleashed and liberated.

He drove me back to my car, asked me when we could meet again and I drove home to pack my bags for the last time.

~

Lying on the beach in Cuba, I thought of my passionate liaison, feeling my body and pulse quicken all over again.

I promised to live my life fully from here on in.

No more pretence.

Undeniable

2004-11-14T15:28:00.000-08:00

Once in awhile, when I’m not expecting it,
I sometimes sense my soul’s light: its massive, expanding potential
When I am still, I begin to see hints of a mysterious, amazing exceptionality
And a subtle smile passes over my lips with the growing acceptance
That this profound truth… is really me – it’s the core of my being.
I surrender to this knowing, allow it to permeate every layer of my consciousness,
Every cell, every molecule

If I had to paint an image of this glorious essential me,
I’d paint a glowing, bursting sunflower
Fresh, jubilant and unstoppable
Springing through craggy rocks to touch the crystal blue ethers, pristine and perfect
My amber-golden petals, backlit by the sun, would shine, like stained glass, pure and precious
Swaying gently, I feel winds moving through my veins
And the streaming sunlight penetrates my pores, leaving me nourished and strong,
Fully alive with the yearning of each new day

When I honour this uniqueness of self and cultivate the dormant nuances of splendour within,
I unleash the mysteries of my soul
And bring forth the miracles that I and only I can birth
This subtle truth is all I need to know
Once I’ve tuned into this knowing, manifestation of my potential is practically undeniable

Look at Me

2004-11-03T23:46:00.000-08:00

When guys look my way, what do they see?
My teasing lips, a vulnerable neck or soft luscious hips?
What do they think when they're leaning so close?
Do they wonder if I'm easy - or what's under my blouse?

When I look at a guy, I wonder if he's strong
Does he know where he's headed? Does he admit when he's wrong?
When I'm standing real close, I wonder - what's between those words
I listen for charm, wit, confidence and exceptional standards

Some guys wonder if I'll add to their clout
Will I make theme feel powerful? Will I turn heads when we're out?
Maybe their friends will want to flirt with me
Will I be a good girl and smile 'No' cheerfully?

Like an unopened rose, some see just one layer of me
Yet I need so much more than to become some schmuck's eye-candy
I've got more soul, more deep earthy soul, than most men will ever begin to know
And my love's nearly mystical for those who do get close

I don't mean to be hard on the opposite gender
I know they're not all looking for a plastic bombshell, long and slender
But I'd rather be alone than become something I'm not
So shallow guys, go ahead - turn your noses up
Cause guys with any depth know there's so much more to being hot!

The Ultimate Self

2004-10-21T02:46:00.000-07:00

What if the single most important thing which God wants of us is not about being good or "doing the right thing" all the time...

What if the primary directive is the complete and FULL expression of our true self: without reservation, without holding back, without editing, and especially without judgment.

Taking the essence of who we are: our dreams, our passions, our play, our joy, our love, our soul's essence, and living OUT LOUD.

It scares me to think about it - allowing myself to live completely unleashed. Risking judgment, failure, rejection and focusing exclusively on a passionate and complete utter expression and expansion of who I always thought I could be...

Those who have impacted me most profoundly exude this presence - it is undeniable. They are one with themselves... something to be truly revered.

Let us remove our veils of appropriateness and give in to all that we are.

Such freedom will is our one true calling.

On Call: An adult bedtime story

2004-10-05T22:24:00.000-07:00

Driving back through the snow, I cursed Mike for ruining the evening. It should have been him that was dragged out at a quarter to nine, to deal with the downed server. I on the other hand, might have been making sophisticated if slightly slurred conversation over the coffee, instead of peering through the frozen windshield at a red stoplight, shaking in the storm. Not that they'd miss me - Simone's wrapped attention to Sarah's conversation, had me wondering. She did have that special something though, Sarah - the kind of poise that didn't just come, 'off the shelf'. I suppose it was the aura of knowing you'll be the most intriguing person in any room you're ever likely to walk into. That's my guess, but maybe I shouldn't try to analyse her too much, I'm no psychologist, servers are my thing - IT, but she certainly turned heads, and it wasn't just the guys who looked.

The lights changed and I pulled forward - driving on auto-pilot, dreaming my way down blanketed streets, oblivious to the headlights and the frozen city blocks, as I recalled events of the interrupted evening.

'Drew?' she'd said as I took her coat and she leaned in to kiss the air beside my cheek. I sensed the perfume, and brushed her dark hair with my lips.

'Sarah. Glad you made it.'

'This snow is in for the night,' she said, sliding away to throw her arms around Simone, and reaching up a little to make up the difference in their height. Simone's mass of chestnut hair, swung against her face and shone under the lights of the Christmas tree in the hall.

'Sarah - you're frozen, come in and warm yourself,' she said, taking her hand and leading her smiling into the den. 'Have you met Drew? We're old friends from college days'.

''Yes - I thinks so,' Sarah said. She had, but I'd clearly made less of an impression on her than she had with me.

I followed them into the den, watching the interactions. There was something electric between them - something I envied, and it carried on throughout the meal, as Simone took us through the courses. The perfect hostess, disguising the awkward fact that I was in the way, though it only dawned gradually, as they started on the second bottle, and as the moments of eye-contact lengthened between them. Maybe it was just that.

I was on call and sober, filling in at the last minute for dork, Mike Atkinson who'd broken his arm during a Sunday afternoon romp in the park with his kid. Watching Simone roll the Merlot around her mouth, I considered for a moment, that falling on the ice was too good for him, maybe, skiing over a cliff would have been more fitting. I imagined the vanilla flavours of good red wine, aged in oak casks, and sipped instead at an insipid soft drink.

That was the moment when the pager vibrated in my pocket. A phone call later, I was making apologies, and heading for a locked up web server. Thousands of dollars an hour of lost business would be pouring through the servers of my employer's competitors as the Christmas buying spree was jerked to an untimely halt by an exception error. Fuck Microsoft. Fuck Bill Gates. Fuck the world. All I wanted was to roll the smooth red wine around my mouth and laugh like them.

'I'll be right back,' I said. 'It's nothing.'

Simone reached up and unhooked a key from the rack by the door. 'Let yourself in when you get back. We're going to open another bottle and I can't promise that we'll be fit to let you in if you're away for long.'

'Great,' I said. 'As long as some of us are having fun.'

Ahead of me, a pickup slithered to a halt, its rear end slewing around as a suicidal drunk stepped into the road, daring the fat guy in the checked jacket to run him over. Steam rose from the pickup's tail pipe as a stream of abuse issued from the open window. I laughed.

It was good to see someone else wasn't having a ball tonight. Fuck Mike Atkinson - the prick. Then, I was outside of Simone's place, the porch lantern swinging in the bitter wind. Snow creaked under foot and I felt in my pocket for the key, then I was in warmth and stamping snow off my shoes onto the mat. Maybe I should shout? But what? An inane, hello? Hi - I'm back? Or nothing?

I chose the latter and made my way past the blinking light of the Christmas fir tree, down the hall towards the den and stopped short, mouth suddenly dry as the truth dawned. I should leave.

Hesitant, reluctant almost, I turned peering around the door. They were on the couch, Sarah's blouse was open. Simone hungrily kissing her, rolling taught nipples between her finger and thumb. The pulse quickened in my temple as I watched their passion - a peeping tom.

Simone pushed her down and moved astride her,dominating, as Sarah groaned, pulling at her lover's skirt, sliding it up, revealing creamy thigh, then black silk underwear, her hand seeking the moist warmth of Simone's need. I suppressed a groan, as she stood suddenly, unhitched her skirt and Sarah now on her knees, slid down the dark silk nickers and pushed her onto the arm of the couch.

'Sit on the edge,' she said, guiding her. 'No, further forward. Yes. Perfect.'

Simone straddled the arm, slid her buttocks forward, leaned back, taking weight on outstretched arms and threw back her head, her magnificent hair tumbling. Sarah smiled and buried her impish face between her legs, sucking and licking at her.

'Oh my God,' Simone gasped, moving one hand to the back of Sarah's head and stroking her hair, or was she pushing her harder into the heart of her pleasure? Her breath came in pants as Sarah worked. I moved, sliding to my right for a better view, feeling like my prick would burst through my pants at any moment. She was in ecstasy, moaning and panting.

'Oh my God, no, don't stop, Oooh God - yes,' she gasped, squirming, her fist now knotted in Sarah's dark hair. Small immaculately manicured fingers worked at Simone as she came, shuddering violently over and over again. Then as she finished, Sarah stood, slipping out of the long skirt. Simone, slid the pink underwear down, and stroked her fingers along the pure ivory of Sarah's inner thigh.

They stared into each other's eyes, then kissed. Sarah smiled, lay down on the rug, and Simone moved over her again, sliding her slender fingers into her gorgeous sex. Sarah moaned and from Simone's movements I realised she was working her thumb around engorged labia. I imagined the feel of it, wet and gloriously sensitive, I'd have hesitated over the hooded the centre of her pleasure, and from Sarah's squirming, I guessed that Simone knew better than any man, how to take her there and hold her, poised somewhere between heaven and earth.

She stooped, chestnut hair cascading over Sarah's nakedness, now kissing and licking at her, teasing, then pressuring. Her head moved rhythmically.

My heart was pounding as I walked in, unbuttoning my shirt and throwing it aside. Sarah's eyes opened wide as I unhitched my pants and stepped out of them, my prick standing hard at forty five degrees. Sarah smiled, shut her eyes as a wave of pleasure rushed through her, then pointed at Simone's glorious buttocks raised in front of me.

'Simone,' she gasped, imagine if Drew was fucking you right now - would you like that?'

She moaned for answer, and I knelt on the floor behind her, caressing her gorgeous buttocks, and sliding fingers over her glistening pussy. Her hips began rotating and she opened for me. I slid inside, feeling her swallow everything I had, moving, slowly at first, then faster. Short, teasing movements, then long ones, all the while, stroking the small of her back with one hand and rubbing and squeezing her taught clitoris with the other. I emptied into her, watching the look of rapture on Sarah's face as Simone, sucked and licked at her in a frenzy.

Afterwards, I lay spent on the carpet, by the fire, listening to their laughter as they showered. They didn't need me, and never had. I was finished, but for them, the night was young. I dressed, looking at their clothes strewn around the floor and laughed, barely able to convince myself of what had happened. It had been a privilege, but it was over. I let myself out into the cold. The snow had stopped and hard blue stars sparkled, like gems in the blackness. I reached the car and stood a moment looking at the house. Maybe tomorrow, I'd drop a bottle of something seasonal in at Mike's house. He'd never know the debt I owed him, and another thing, being on call, would never be the same again. I'd see it as an opportunity - you just never do know how things will pan out, now do you?

Thanks for this work of erotic art Fred!! It was the perfect bedtime story!
PH

Stay

2004-10-04T20:52:00.000-07:00

You stand there looking at me
Not knowing what to say
I put my arms around you
And whisper... "It's okay"

You open your mouth to speak
and I fill it with a kiss
New love washes us both
Erasing all our sins

I've loved poorly
and been poorly loved
Been on my knees
Screamed at gods above

And now I want to say I love you
But the words are jammed in tight
So I ask if you can stay
beside me, through the night

You pull me in real close
and show me that you're willing
The heat between us simmers
Our bodies softly singing

How can something so sweet and pure
bring such a wave of panic and fear?

All I know is... that you kiss me - and I ignite
Take me completely, and stay near me through the night

What Would My Pussy Say?

2004-09-17T23:59:00.000-07:00

If my pussy talked she would definitely have far too much to say
She'd be ranting and raving all night long
"I'm hungry - feeeeed me!!!"
"Listen to me - I'm loooonely - don't you know anyone?"
"Hey, look at those biceps and ummmmm ... what a tight end!"

My pussy would lead me to places I'd never go on my own
She'd grab my by the elbow, spray me with le Nuit Noir and dress me in black fishnet
We'd be off to the club, a lounge or an all night jazz bar
I'd sit with my sparkling water watching her weave and undulate towards her prey -
An unsuspecting sailor or a visiting French tourist would fall victim to her charms

If my pussy could talk she'd tell Mr. Right:
"Whatcha doing here all alone? I'm sure ya could use a bit of company. We should get outta here. Let me take that off that jacket for you though, isn't that better? You don't have to be anywhere tonight do ya?...."

My pussy knows what she wants and she's goes right out and gets it.
No meowing at the door for hours - she reaches right up and turns the knob.
Presto, the door opens and she walks right on through with her head and tail held high!

The truth is though - my pussy's crazy sweet but I keep her pretty much stowed away.
I love her to pieces but she's not to be trusted.
I give her the odd treat or scratch behind the ears and she whines for more
But that's all she's gettin these days.
If my pussy could talk she'd tell me: "Loosen up girl - live a little".
I'm sure she's onto something but I'm just not that kinda girl.
REALLY, I'm not!

Now It's Coming

2004-08-28T18:28:00.001-07:00

It's coming - hard, fast and enthusiastically
I feel it, welling up, demanding to escape like a pent up bull-rider
Intelligent words SCREAM to be freed of their confines
And laid to rest on patiently vacant paper
or at least dramatically expelled into the etheric digital world

I'll release those witty words soon enough
Time's ticking after all and the pressure's really on
I've been stewing these inspired verbo-concoctions for days
They're sure to find their way out any minute now
Hands poised above keyboard, tea at hand, animals fed

But wait ...

I'm hungry.
No, I'm achey
OK, actually I'm horny
How can I be expected to work like this?
I'll eat - no, I've just done that
I'll have a hot shower - no, I've done that too
I'll masturbate - ummm... I wouldn't admit to that here!

OK - I'll be able to think better if I vacuum the house.
Walk the dog.
Call a friend.
Check my horoscope.
Check my email (oh, done that already)
Post a poem about not writing
...(You are hereby found guilty of 'Blogitism': Blogging your life instead of living it)
Put on a CD.
OK - I'll put on a CD and that's it. After that, the buck stops here.
If I chant the mantra three times, it should work:
When I hear the Chieftans, I will be a creative genius
When I hear the Chieftans, I will be a creative genius
When I hear the Chieftans, I will be a creative genius.
I will write, and I will write until there is nothing left to say.
They will give me my graduate degree and I will attend the ceremony this time
And I will be promoted, make more than 100K, get the guy and have 2.5 kids.
On my mark,
Get set,
GO!!!!!!!!!

Allowing

2004-08-23T01:19:00.000-07:00

I look carefully and I see wave-people dancing, swirling, and crashing into one another
Moving along in tandem and then parting, headed for different shores
Life, love, passion – it all moves with rhythm and the same unpredictable flow
I try to paddle, to steer, to move towards the ideal person, place or thing
But the currents tell me it’s best to relax into the natural ebb and flow,
To let life unfold… to breathe in all new places and experiences that come along

But men have built rudders and sails, compasses and engines!
We propel, we guide, we navigate!
We reach for dreams and destinations and overcome icebergs and other obstacles!

In my heart though, I know that there is a balance –
I can shove off in the right direction but then I need to let go...
To surrender, to allow, to be buoyed along by a higher flow
Because the thing is – this higher flow often takes me places I’d never dreamed of
And I've even discovered parts of myself I never knew existed

So just for today – one new day, I venture out
With a taste for adventure and a willingness to allow.

Sideways Flirting

2004-08-13T00:27:00.000-07:00

I hug you happy birthday and your bristles scrape my cheek as I kiss you.

The sting lingers for 20 minutes and you smile at me warmly during the meeting… Hmmm…too bad you’re married.

I complement Tristan on his haircut – he really looks so handsome and the hint of silver left over his ears really is sexy. I burst out with “I love you” when I say goodnight. I mean it in the most wholesome way but nobody would believe me. I’m not even sure if I believe me. I fantasize about more but nothing will ever happen as he's leaving the country as soon as his time’s up and it would never work anyway- we're from different worlds.

Standing talking to someone and arms envelop me from behind. Now THAT’s a flirtation – I can feel the full length of his body against the back of my torso. Who’s this daring flirt? I turn and it’s Brian. Totally married. That was not only brazen but totally puzzling – I don’t even know you that well Brian. I’m going to assume that was innocent affection and leave it at that. I’m really not into married men despite my razor burned cheek…

My need to love and be loved comes out sideways. Indiscriminately, I am in love with everyone and it’s messy and confusing but maybe it’s just who I am. It’s bad right now – no sex for how long? Maybe a month (it wouldn’t seem so long if I hadn’t started sleeping with Drew again – but I’ve ended that). I love loving and being loved but I will refuse the temptation of any further stop-gap romance. My vibrator serves that need most adequately….

But everyone needs to feel loved, to feel sensual and passionate. And being sensual doesn’t always mean being sexual. I still manage to feel lost and alone though. I still manage to feel panicked that there’s nobody there for me. Sometimes I think “how can nobody see the absolute perfect beauty in my eyes? How did I get missed when guys were thinking about who they might like to take out to a movie this weekend? Don’t they know how fun I can be? Or what an amazing late night philosopher I am? Or what about my amazing oral-sensual-eroticdexterity?”
So I turn my love inward, I revel in the beauty and mystery of life. I love myself and nurture my soul like it were the last on earth. I handle with care and buy myself flowers and trust that love will come again – because it always does. This time I will be ready. I’ll have made peace with my fears, danced with my demons and left my sadness behind. I gaze up to see an amazing streaking meteor burning up and then exploding like a firework and think to myself, I will not fear love. I will open up fully this time – no holding back. I know I’m ready.

Kiss me like that

2004-08-03T02:32:00.000-07:00

Do that again -
once more,
right here...

Gentle but sure lips brush mine
and move away again, teasing me, just out of reach
leaving me yearning,
leaning in with all that I am
for one more taste

I'm deprived of that sweet formation, wanting, left dang l i n g g g….

Sweet electric anticipation sends shimmer waves across my skin's surface

My lips blush and swell, earlobes pulse in heartbeat
stiff nipples cry out for warmth, contact and friction
labia swell in chorus, moist and slick

Those kinds of kisses can take me over the edge all on their own
...the rest is an afterthought

Kiss me like that and I’ll follow you anywhere
cause as far as I’m concerned,
its all in the kiss

Slow Cooking Angst

2004-07-27T23:31:00.000-07:00

Let’s not define this place I now stand in,
but leave it up to the universe to know
I don’t need to understand everything
I don’t need to knead it – it will work itself out.
If I turn the heat on low, it will slow cook
without any fussing and prodding
Slow and easy does the trick –
like making love on a Sunday morning.
Nowhere to be no place to go.
Just being with it is enough.

Tapping into each Other

2004-07-20T00:24:00.000-07:00

You half listen to me
with the tap tap tapping of your computer in the background
conquering villages, armies and continents
I know my angst is mine alone, but if I keep it inside, my nervous coil continues to tighten, strangling me in subtle ways
Tap tap tap ....
Am I boring?
Am I self-absorbed?
Am I leaning on you too heavily?

Our late night calls make me feel human
Another adult is out there, listening (or tapping)
I cultivate this dependency, returning religiously, night after night.
Sometimes it lifts me
Other times it leaves me mad
Once in a while, I feel misunderstood
I know you know about that one.

Perhaps we lean on each other in different ways,
Waiting for something more fulfilling
Who will be the first to find greener pastures?
What will we tell our new lovers about our unique more-than-friendship?
Tap tap tap tap
I love you even when you don't call me, even when you tap tap tap
I try not to fall asleep while you talk
But your voice soothes me, lulling me into exhausted oblivion.

I won't call tonight, but I'll want to. I always do...

Sun and Moon

2004-07-07T23:52:00.000-07:00

I look to you, the sun,
I’ve nothing to offer
but the shining waters of my soul

You see through the placid surface and into my depths
raw, tangled emotion, swirling and churning,
springing saltwater leaks
and warm teary tidal pools

I am the stillness in your in your sleep
and the passion in your loins

I need your questioning glances,
your wandering hands and your mocking grin

When I’m lost in angst
and tangled in seaweed fears,
tugging me slowly downward,

You reach out, one sure hand, taut bicep,
with all the reassurance of a warm bath,
a gentle but penetrating heat

And I know that my imagined demons
are slipping away,
withering from lack of attention

You save me over and over

And each time, I’m reborn
with vanilla breath and a shining moonlight smile,
reflecting all the sweetness of your love

Tall Cool One

2004-06-22T00:14:00.000-07:00

You look at me across a fire with hunger and a knowing that cuts through the buffer I think is there. You stand close enough to feel my breath, you watch me move, you call my name and it cuts my excuses short. I want to be near you, to smell your chest and taste the salt on your neck. I can look and smile but I'm frozen in my longing. Like a deer in the headlights, I'm mesmerized. I feel like I'm about to spontaneously combust, consumed by my own passion.

Ounce by Ounce

2004-06-17T22:05:00.000-07:00

Old looming trees - sun and sky,
A dog, good friends, my girl-child and I

I'll sit, talk, play, and strum my guitar,
campfire entranced, clothes covered in char

I'll think - oh I'm lonely for a woodsy man,
then I'll counter - no I'm happy - I really am

Well it could be true that I may be a bit desolate,
but I'm open and willing - the rest's up to fate

When the sticks fall down what really counts
Is savouring the moments, ounce by ounce

I count these times as silver and gold
Loved ones beside me, these treasures I behold

SM June 2004

Feel No Shame

2004-06-15T23:15:00.000-07:00

My ivory soul shouts out: What makes a whore?

If I loved your breath on my velvet soft neck
The scrape of your whiskers: pleasure-sweet-pain
Would you cast me a harlot?

If I sighed as you unbuckled me, suckled me and then fucked me
Would you think me impure?

If I yearned for the throb, the pulse and the thrust
The blush and the moan, the gush and the foam
Would you - could you - judge me a whore?

Speak softly my love...
for the nymphs may be listening - and remember this:

My frosted peach kiss will fall as tender tears on your cheek
with the warmth and smile of candy floss delight
Every luscious curve of my body will open,
inviting you in to my soul-world of pink caress.

Honour me fully for my gift of surrender
The purity of my passion rings sweetly with the music of my soul
I feel no shame

SM June, 2004

I want to know...

2004-06-14T19:08:00.000-07:00

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with JOY, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.

I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty everyday, and if you can source your life on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon.

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
Oriah, Mountain Dreamer, Indian Elder

Creating Love: Strategic Plan

2004-06-13T18:02:00.000-07:00

Vision: A long term soul connection based on two whole people supporting each other in reaching new heights.

Mission: To seek out opportunities to meet mature, intelligent, passionate and creative men who are unencumbered.

Goal:To create a shared long term future with someone who holds similar values, ambitions, dreams and passions.

Strategies:

1. Increase opportunities to meet strong men with a similar outlook on life.
2. Improve engagement tactics by finding ways to be less inhibited in approaching and interacting with men I'm attracted to.
3. Maintain a vision of what I want to create and only pursue those interactions that support that vision.
4. Invest my current time and resources in health and well being and recommit regularly to personal excellence.

Saltwater Crush

2004-06-06T16:57:00.000-07:00

Crinkly eyes find mine through wafts of old nicotine
Your dangling eloquence captivates but leaves me wanting
Let's do coffee, lunch or grow old together on an old porch swing
Would your gentle flattery still entice with the change of seasons?
Would I remain faithful to this schoolgirl crush?
you're slipping into the space between my thoughts,
Like warm ocean water between my thighs
My quilt is plumped to wrap you in soft caress
Climb in - Stay with me a while....

Afterword:
As foreshadowed, this infatuation faded before I could even blog it....Oh well.... I'll blog the ending some other time.

Flirtation or Intent?

2004-06-05T00:36:00.000-07:00

Well, last night was a strange mix of adolescent regression, spiritual playfulness, heartfelt connection and an experiment in submission.

Around the table knowing glances are passed but no table talk please.
Socked feet amuse themselves in a secret embrace below while trump are led.
With daughter sleeping elsewhere, this evening, anything is possible.
Drew jokes about an orgy but who would dare?
My left foot finds its way to his jean lap. A familiar (but failed) love - comfortable and safe.
Across from me, radiant playfulness aurates from Sarah, inviting my feet to an even warmer resting spot. Hmmmmm...
The tentative heat of her hands penetrates my curved arches, permeating through the nylon. We euchre them - ha!
Flirtation or intent?
We've known each other for far too long and without beer or wine no one is sure how far they'd really go.
What's really required is an aggressor to call the bluff.
I rise as Drew is declared the champion - "How about a game of truth or dare?"
I light candles and vanilla warmth creates an inviting cocoon in the next room.
Norah Jones entertains us from her smoky jazz bar in the corner

TRUTH be told -
favorite Sexual position?
Female: Hands and knees, chest pressed on the floor

Most perverse turn on?
Male: Bound woman, completely submissive, invitation to dominate and invade

Lost virginity?
Female: 14th birthday, in the back of Tom's Chevy Van, while my best friend waited outside

Most sensitive spot?
Female: My clit - PLEAAAASSSSE be careful!

Most horrible moment sexually?
Male: Selling myself for drugs

Ever sold yourself?
Female: No. Well.... once had sex with someone who helped me on a piece of work at home. It wasn't really trade but more of a thanks.

One of the guys confesses that he thinks this is a bit weird and can we just talk. I didn't mind. I would have kissed Sarah if I'd been dared. I think she wanted me to and I've never kissed a woman on the mouth before.

I tell them all I'm taking Drew upstairs and we wrap it up.

Sarah lingers at the front door and I ask if she wants to stay. She blushes and says she hasn't shaved her legs!!!

I'm OK with that and give her a big hug goodbye. I think she wanted to stay. It would have been OK with me but I really like our friendship and don't want to risk it becoming awkward.

Drew and I head up stairs and I hand him a few scarves to tie me up. He teases me with no avail and we both work ourselves into a complete frenzy.
Drew is really wonderful in bed and a great friend - I nearly say I love you more than once during our exercise in submission but catch myself.
Maybe having him stay all night wasn't such a good idea. It's too snuggly - I didn't want him to go.

We both know we're not meant to be together though. We keep each other company while we wait for the real thing. I've got to do better at keeping my emotions in check though if I'm going to stay involved with him physically. I don't know anyone else that I can call after 10:30 either so I know I lean on him in other ways. I want to call him tonight and invite him over. I would have thought last night would have kept me satisfied for a couple of weeks but I guess that's just not how it works is it?

A Moment of Truth

2004-06-03T18:45:00.000-07:00

I hold the universe in my heart
I feel every small thing - and every vastness
It’s in my bones, my sinew, my breath and the space between my thoughts
I hear the echoes of days gone by and am astonished at the evolved complexity
and simplicity
It’s one breath in, another out, repeated… like the seasons and the eras
This is the meaning of life – breathe in breathe out feel the spaces know the truth
My love draws me to infinite communion – with all that is and ever was
And even what will be
I can BE
I can be significance and grandeur
My infinite self awakes with each breath with each smile with each tear
I surrender my precious heart to all that awaits
I honour my aliveness
I embrace my infinite power – my unlimited potential
I sense the perfection of this moment with piercing clarity
I am of all things great and small
I AM

SM, 2004

Alabaster Time

2004-06-02T21:47:00.000-07:00

It's smooth and white like the neck of an Italian marble statue
tempered, delicate, shaded creaminess flowing like white hot lava
she thinks I am desperate for her all the time
but it's her alabaster thigh travelling through my eye

yes I need her every moment
yes I want her for all instants
yes I long for her hours
yes her right now

And I will come when she beckons and beckon to her coming
I will find my way to her when she calls my name
I will be there in fashionably good time but never desperate
For my glimpse and caress of her alabaster thigh

She thinks me desperate of clocks sweet ticking
She thinks me wanting moments to pass
She thinks me longing for hands to be moving
She of the alabaster thigh

But I am not desperate for the cold marble
I am not longing for translucent stone
I want to smell her aroma lingering across her alabaster thigh
And I will be there on alabaster time

Ed, 2002

Waving

2004-06-01T23:31:00.000-07:00

Torn hose cling to my white thigh, escaped flesh dancing
A black knit skirt clings like peach fuzz, veiling the latent invitation
Someone knows though, - I catch his not so furtive glance in the corner of my eye
Knees bent, I pluck at the plus sized pantyhose on the shelf
Sheer silks or regular smoking coal?
I'll take the latter - my legs are silk enough
The suit passes by again, scurrying back for one last item (or perhaps another glimpse)
This time I let my eyes meet his
I move through the checkout and my escaped creamy thigh waves goodbye