The way you handle your money: sliding bills toward the bartender to cover a round when no one's looking. Slipping an extra five under the sugar bowl despite the bad coffee and hamburgers that taste as though they haven't said "moo" in a long, long time. You don't hold on to your money too tightly, yet you always have enough. It's about the same with a woman.
The fact that you don't take that for granted makes it even better.
Although I laughed until tears squeezed from my eyes when I pulled it out of my Christmas stocking, I was thinking that when a man like you buys a toy like that for a woman like me, baby, that's saying something.
Don't say that. I disagree completely. In fact, I love your work clothes. I love the way the rough chinos hug your hips. I love the striped shirt and the way the embroidered name patch rests just over your heart like a promise.
Come over here. I'll unbutton it for you. Let me look at you: the shape of your lips, your eyes when you smile. Dear sweet Jesus, just let me look at you.
When you take both my hands in your hands like that, pull them up above my head and hold them there until all the tears I've ever cried evaporate.
The perfect velvet blue of dusk will be gone in an instant. It's slipping away already. But I know a secret way to hold onto it: Lace your fingers in mine and put your mouth on my mouth until the edges between us blur.
Don't think too hard, just make a wish. Now close your eyes and I'll make it come true.
* * *
13 comments:
I am so happy true, real women like you exist on this planet.
Erin, u go girl!,.
that's one sexy touching real piece of writing there - lovely rhythm :)
Yes, the words just rock with love...thanks for being there and sharing there with us...
You know it isn't until after being pulled up over hips that transform as the fabric slide over them that I realize what Victoria's secret is. We bump in transit-- me in and you out, in the doorway and the scent of mosturizers and hair spray takes on an exotic aroma as we pass.
Coring a head of lettuce and breaking it apart beneath the cold water as it pours from the faucet in the kitchen, the same hands that in a few hours would hold and caress my back, with the same firmness and weight, it is enough to make sure that the dishes get done and the trash taken out.
The way that the leash is never too tightly held at parties and there are single women who laugh a little too loudly at jokes that we both know aren't funny, and want to leave their hands on my shoulders. Instead of being insecure, you come over to the punch bowl and with a sparkle in your eyes, say to me that the door will be unlocked and that it will need to be double-checked, as your ruby red lips crease themselves into the most seductive smile this side of Sophia Loren.
It's coming to bed on a long and mundane Wenesday night and throwing back the sheets to find you lying there, a honey-brown Betty Page...
... ran out of steam. Not that I was tryin' to compete but was so inspired by what was written... to bad that I had to draw on memories that are growing slipperied to hold on to by the day...
Sometimes when I surf this blog I forget you're a writer. Good reminder, very good.
Is it getting hot in here...?? I feel a little breathless.....
The story just pulls me in but these are the type posts that sometimes leave me thinking maybe I've learned too much. I suppose that sense of intimacy is what writers aim for.
RJ
There is an overdose of intimacy here, RJ.
I've always got some metaphoric point floating around. In this post I'm trying to show that you don't need one crass word or graphic detail to talk very vividly about sex.
I look around and there is XXX SEX everywhere yet sexy remains as elusive and rare as ever.
I want to tell these kids that you can only get so naked, augmented and shaved, and none of it gets you closer to sexy. Desire is the essence of sexy.
Jesus Christ awmighty. I need more coffee. erfville!
Is it hot in here, or is it just me? heh
I fear my prurient interests and bad manners sometimes obscure my appreciation of a well crafted metaphor.
RJ
Oh sure. Now I have to go look up "prurient."
I looked awful whenever I stuck a butt in my mouth and smelled worse for the entire 10 years.
Oh I've done that before at work. I'll never do it again, because while job security is important, no one is above me and no one is below me.
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