To get what I ask for………….delicious!
To know what to ask for………divine!
Currently I am wrapped up in feather heaven. This bed has enveloped me. It caresses my senses and has allowed for the kind of sleep a dreamer dreams about. With every move my body is unconditionally supported by soft pleasure. Did I mention that this bed is in a room at the 4 Seasons?…………..in Maui! I am gleefully reminded of something my dadio says every time I ask him how he is doing, ”I can’t complain,” he boasts. No daddy, I can’t either.
Life is lusciously good. My holiday cheer is kicking this year and I can’t help but notice that everything is going my way. Thank you, more please.
Being in my creative flow feels magical, because it is! But in the past I had the pesky little habit of recognizing the flow, then jumping into the negative future fantasy of it coming to an end. And guess what? It would. I am not interested in that dynamic anymore. Today I choose to recognize myself as a manifestation machine and go for more. In my dating world, this ups the ante.
I am finding that the quality of man that I am inviting into my life gets higher and higher. Brava goddess! The men are more fun, more open, more generous, more mature. Yes please! As I get better and better at drawing the things I want into my world, I realize I must be more specific. Go for the gusto! Don’t be intimidated or too modest to ask for it all! For me, this makes the good even better. Here is a pleasant little story and an example.
Thursday night date with the frontrunner Spicy Guy. We have not yet failed in having an absolute blast. He picks me up and whisks me away to West Hollywood for an evening extravaganza. A good start gets even better when we walk into a bar that is hosting Lucent Dossier for an evening of Doo Lab la la lahs! Sexy, beautiful, costumed beings surround us, emerge into our experience, hoist their perfect bodies high above our scalps and drinks. I am mesmerized by what the human body is capable of. I am sucked forward, upward, open. I am tickled, tempted, and turned on by the whole experience, by every man and women in the joint……albeit one. The one on my arm.
Dammmmmmmnit! He is so great! He is so authentic! He is not a big fat doucher! But I cannot get pussy excited about this one. How do I know? Because every time he goes to kiss me, I am just waiting for it to end. Because my arms are stick straight at my sides and my fingers don’t unknowingly tiptoe up his torso and crawl into his soft, brown curls. Shit, shit, shit! I keep thinking this would all be so much easier if I was into this spicy number. I wouldn’t be thinking so much. I wouldn’t be worrying about how to tell him and when and where. (Remember proclamation # 4? No more lying!).
After more drinks, more dancing and yes shopping the gay stores on Santa Monica Blvd. (told you he was rad!), I get a sensation filled ride back to the westside. The night is cozy and calm. The tunes turn up and the top on his convertible comes down. Living in Los Angeles feels so sexy in this moment. I allow my tired mind to hit the head rest and my eye shades to fall. Either I am too blissed out, or too nervous to say what I need to say. Nonetheless, I fall into sleep in the front seat.
Out in front of my house, I squirm in my seat. Honestly, I almost brave the good night kiss and make a ninja break for the stairs. But I know I cannot because that would only elongate the agony of my inauthenticity (which is truly more uncomfortable then explaining how I feel……or how I don’t feel rather). Squirming, squirming, I groan. “In service to full honesty, I have to share something. I find you totally amazing………and……..I am not feeling a sexual attraction between us.”
Aaaaahhhhhhhhh the immaculate release! I am so proud of myself, I want to chest bump me! Because he is uber cool, the remainder of the conversation is civilized, understanding and open. Thank God! If he yelled and me, I might have thrown up. He still wants to pursue hanging out. Perhaps he can tame this wild vixen or seduce her over to the dark side?
I race up the stairs with a jaunty spring in my step. Lovely leaps and bounds of self-liberation. Then, halfway up, another groan emits…….awwwhhhhhh. Not because I left anything unsaid. Because, “Where Oh Where is My Turn On?”
(Little did she know that in less than 24 hours the wait would be over).
Fast forward to the next night. By some mystical aligning of the ethers, a valiant He-Man stepped forth and grasped my mighty baton hovering in sensual purgatory. With a tight and manly grip, he ran with it. Nevertheless, the evening was no race; this was a pleasure run. I became woman to his touch. He became helpless to a goddess expressing her delight. I have no words that describe the electricity created among two bodies of flesh. I just know to say thank you. What was it that allowed me to forgo my head and surrender my body to the night? Was it pheromones? Was it He-Man’s special powers? Was it the tribal tea we drank? Guess what? I don’t care!
A while back I stated a desire to have a man’s presence linger on my body, devour my thoughts. I wanted little luscious loop de loops. Well………….Voila! Fish, fish, got my wish! I am kicking ass at this game and I don’t intend on letting up. (My daddy taught me that one too). When desires and fun collide, watch out! There is no end to what can be conjured. This only leaves me with one question. What shall I ask for next?