Friday, July 1, 2011

NOT A LOVE LETTER #2

Do you remember the night you got me drunk?

I was uncharacteristically shy and you were verily amused.

“What’s your poison, sweetheart?”

It was difficult to concentrate because you were doing that magic thing you do to my hands with your fingers. You were kneading the fleshy pads of my palms and your touch was hypnotic. I wanted nothing more than to crawl onto your lap and have you croon me to sleep in your deep baritone. Instead, I mumbled a feeble ‘anything’ and you grinned devilishly.

I knew you were going to get me pissed drunk that night and I didn’t care. I knew you were going to charm my clothes off of me that night and I didn’t care. I knew you were going to take outright advantage of my soon-to-be inebriated self but I didn’t care. I knew you were going to break my heart and still I didn’t care. I just wanted you to fuck me silly and make me scream your name. I just wanted you.

You ordered a Gimlet for yourself and an apple martini for me. I took a sip and cringed.

“Do you want something else?”

“I don’t drink,” I muttered sheepishly.

I knew it was irrational to want to pretend to be something I wasn’t - a sophisticated worldly class act - and I was embarrassed that I wasn’t the sort of woman you were used to - older, prettier, taller, more brassy with expensive taste.

“Naturally,” your voice was heavy with derision.

I eyed your Gimlet with interest. “Is that any good?”

You eyed me measuringly and dipped your last finger into your glass.

I grimaced. “Did you wash your hands?”

You laughed, short and mockingly. “Yes, Mother. Now open wide for Daddy.”

I rolled my eyes but took your pinky in my mouth. I sucked hard on your finger and licked it clean. The strong flavour of gin hit my palate and I smiled at you. I liked it very much.

“Order me one,” I ordered you.

You waved the waiter over.

I was ready to get punchdrunk on love.

source: quickiesinny via penguinprostitution