leftunspoken's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mr Maybe and the Game of the Year So the new guy (two months today) is still around. Despite occasional appearances to the contrary. And man he talks a good game. I mean a really good game. And all in that deep scratchy voice that makes me wet and a little shaky. But talk is cheap, right. I remember that when I'm spending my nights or weekends alone. He knows it too. Makes comments about needing to kiss my ass before I "replace" him. And I've considered it. I could. Take the next number in line. Yeah sure...and then wish it was him. And in part he's right. One day my little tether is going to snap along with my patience and I'll be gone. Tired of waiting for his time and him to make good on all his whispered words. But the rest of me...the rest of me could love him so easily. He has no idea how easily. And that's not like me. I mean dancing around singing songs from My Fair Lady, naming the children, planning vacations in response to big strong mean-looking men with growly voices and beautiful fingers - totally me. Mostly just for the fun of it. The exhilaration. But love - that's a big word. One I don't use on men who may fuck me. And I say this fully expecting to die when the sky falls on my head...I think he may be something new. Something different. Hell, if he means half of what he says, he's amazing. And I'm not painting him rosy. He has flaws. Some of which I've pointed out in an attempt to find out if my voice in anything but a purr would chase him away. But it hasn't yet. My growl and even my claws have only brought me his deep voice telling me 'alright he gets the point, he's sorry, now settle down' and stinging slaps to my backside that make me forget I was fussing at him and make me want to beg him to bend me over something and fuck me. He hasn't by the way. We haven't. Something about him feels right. Especially because it doesn't. Because he isn't what I anticipated or am used to and somehow he still feels like home. *sigh* Goodness knows I'm a lousy judge of men. And too hungry for somewhere safe to always know that I've found a trap instead of a den. But God save me, because I'm already settling in. Follow through Babe please. Soon. Before pride and need make it too hard for me to stay. 11:53 a.m. - March 10, 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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