spookie Posted June 4, 2009 Posted June 4, 2009 I used to have really porny daydreams about Jack. You know: we're both working late, then he's pinning me to my desk, hard breath in hair, hands everywhere... But lately, I can't stop thinking about what it would be like to just date him. In my mind, where I've gotten a trasnfer and he actually likes me back, he asks me out. I spend most of the day of freaking out. Both the bottles AND the bong beckon, but my resolve to remain sober wins out: which means, by the time he picks me up, I'm wired; a tense ball of stress. At first, on the drive, it's how some days at work are. Pretty formal, kind of awkward. I'm lost within myself, as always; walls and walls to scale everywhere, if I want a way out; new ones always appearing. He leads the conversation. "Was that your first baseball game?" he asks, about the Chicago Actaurial Association game I just attended with my friends. "Yah," I say, feeling weird. People are always incredulous at my total lack of exposure to these kinds of all-American things. Either I'm teased when these topics come up ("Where are you from? A-ZER-BAI-JAN?") or else I'm treated like a freak. But he's not so easily threatened. That's one thing I love about him so much: he's always bridging differences between people. Differences in backgrounds, differences in communication... when I lapse into silence at work, he draws me pictures. He is optimistic and enthusiastic about everyone and their unique experience. Today, he knows I'm nervous, so he tells me stories he knows will make me laugh. Pretty soon, I'm relaxing. I crack some jokes of my own, we're both laughing, engaging, engaged; and by the time we get to the theater, the attraction is intoxicating. In a dim corner sitting closely together, we chat through the credits. i love his voice so soft and low, his scent makes me drunk. Will he kiss me? "I like not being your boss," he says. "Why?" I whisper. "Because it means I can do this." I hold my breath. He puts his arm around me. At first, the intensity of the touch shocks me; the tingly graze of fingers on skin reverbrating all through my body, unfurling the furthest corners of my mind. But soon, enveloped in his warm and strong embrace, I relax. We take a walk after the movie. The night is warm and breezy, and he holds my hand. Later, outside my building, he is saying goodnight. He looks so shy and uncertain that I'm still not sure he is going to kiss me; but then he's leaning in, and though I've thought about it for so long, I'm caught off guard; our noses bump. But still, it's perfect: soft lips, warm breath, moonlight, and eyelashes that tickle; and though I want him all so bad, it's not at all horny. He holds my hand. I am prepared to be patient.
oscakool Posted June 4, 2009 Posted June 4, 2009 And this is why I love women because their fantasies are ****ing amazing.
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