Chapter 21

the sound: Elton John – Tiny Dancer, The Carpenters – Rainy Days and Mondays, Terry Jacks – If You Away, Bread – Guitar Man, Christopher Cross – Sailing, Bobby Goldsboro – Honey, Neville Brothers – Tell it Like it Is, Tommy James and the Shondells – Crimson and Clover, The Beatles – Come Together

I wake up again some time later and it’s decidedly dark in the room. I lay cocooned in the eiderdown for minutes trying to remember where the hell I am. “I think the time has come to admit that you’re scared Baby…you obstinate fool…look what not thinking has got you into this time – apparently your father is right…you are a fool…now just how the hell are ya gonna get outta here?”

I lay back and think of what Michael would have said of my never ending penchant for acting first and thinking later. I burrow back down under the covers.

I, once again, stare at the ceiling and I realize that again I’ve awoken crying that there are tears rolling down to dampen the pillow…

Eventually I do stop crying…when I realize that the bladder gets to be the boss of me and I climb out of bed to use the facilities. Once in the bathroom I find towels laid out, a tooth brush, shampoo, conditioner and there’s even and clean clothes.

“Someone was in here while I was asleep!” I panic staring about to see if they are still there. I look back to the clothes…they are not my clothes, but they are my size and clean.

“In for a penny, in for a pound” I shrug and turn on the facets for the tub. There is simply no chance I am going to get into a shower so soon after that dream.

I soak in the tub for what seems to be a long time…but knowing me and my propensity for quick and clean it’s likely just a few minutes. I get out and towel myself dry and wander back into the bedroom without getting dressed.

As I walk past one of the curtained windows I pull aside the curtains to reveal the window high and tiny, nothing like I expected from the size of the draperies.

I can see sky out there and starts but little else.

I am dressed and standing at the big mirrored door of the armoire brushing my hair when I hear the door snick open behind me. I whirl around to see rather large man standing in the doorway dressed completely in black arms crossed over his chest. I struggle and come up with a name…”Snot”

“Made yerself ta home, I see” he snorts.

I nod and continue to brush my hair. He announces that I should get my boots “we’re going out” and before I can ask if he means out doors or out to party or a bar even…he’s gone. “Fine then,” I snort as I grab for my boots and haul them on, “be like that why don’tcha?”

Once I’m fully dressed, my makeup is on and my hair is braided over my shoulders with a bandana head band tied on for good measure, I head out the now open door of the bedroom through the hallway to the living room…”not much of a living room if nobody uses it” I think as I pace through the empty, now sterile, looking room.

Once I get to the door I find myself curiously reticent to open it and head out. “Truly…I only know one person here” and just as I decided to head back to the bedroom to find my stuff and sneak off the door opens and there stands Robert.

Large
Large
Robert.

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Chapter 20

the sound: Enigma – Principles of Lust

I dreamed of sex in the shower…

not the kind of sex that is safe
or marital
or repetitive

but
hot
wet
monkey sex


the man is ruddy and handsome
in a bad boy sort of way

he enters the shower wearing
riding leathers and boots and jeans
straight off the road

his red beard and strawberry blonde hair
fresh with the thick sent of a man
who’s ridden long and hard
to get to his destination

his arms are tanned and corded
and his hands are strong
and gentle

he reaches around behind me and
gathers a fist full of wet hair
pulling my head back to expose my throat
and the pulse there

his closely cropped beard
has just enough grey in it to be interesting
and tickles as it drips water to my breast

his breath is hot on me
as his lips graze my nipples
I breath his name
“Micheal”
and place my splayed hands
on both sides of his head
lifting his lips to mine

his kiss is electric
and pulls on me at my core

he lightly runs his tongue
over my lips
and I
whimper

his hands skin down from my shoulders
to almost my elbows
and I am released
bereft

he struggles with his clothes
and we become a tangle
of wet leather
and denim

buttons pop
and his plaid shirt tears

I struggle with his belt buckle
impatient and clumsy in my need

he whispers my name
and presses me up against
the shower wall
lifting me slightly

he is hot and musky
as I breath in his heat
I run my fingertips
down the length of him
and he shivers as I feel
the outline of his core

he raises my leg to his hip
his penis brushes my thigh…..

My eyes open and I am at once awake.

I realize that I am in a strange bed, in an unknown place. I stare at the ceiling and realize too that tears are already rolling down through my hair to the pillow…

I breath his name again, “Michael…I have been dreaming of my Michael
Again”.

[under the auspices of “there’s no such thing as a coincidence” it fascinates me that as I got to the point in this story to recover this post from a piece I’d previously posted without alluding to it’s being from my past life…I had in my mind’s eye this as the perfect piece of music for it’s background…and in the week or so prior to my actually getting to the point in the story to post this…not one but 2 of my friends brought this exact piece of music to my attention…”out of the blue”……curiouser and curiouser!]

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