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The day’s run into one another. Wake up, work at work, work at home, bills, stress, life. Eat. Work. Sleep. Repeat. Is this all there is, he wonders on his way home one afternoon. What about Eat. Play. Sleep. Repeat…how would that feel? Unfortunately, he knows exactly how that feels but that reminds him of her and he cannot go there right now. He feels beat down by life. Not much in the mood to think about when the days were filled with laughing, flirting, and fun.

He has been to enough therapy to know that when he is bummed out that is exactly when he thinks of her the most. She is the symbol of what he wanted – passion, excitement, energy, a challenge, a connection of mind and body. He nods his head when they say, ‘it wasn’t her she wanted, she just represented all of it.’ Given enough time and access it would have happened with any woman. This. Woman. Means. Nothing. He promises to come back to reality, get his head screwed on straight again, suck it up. He does ok for a while but then the numbness starts to wear him down and he lets himself drift. This week is particularly crappy – it’s his birthday. At this time last year he could be with her everyday. If not in person, over Skype. If not over Skype, then in notes and recordings he made to know she was smiling because of him. If not in writing, then he could remember her smell and taste and hear her laugh in his head when he went to sleep at night. Those memories are starting to fade, it might make more sense to let them go but he knows he would rather hold on to them for as long as possible, maybe forever. Hell, some days it feels like it never even happened.

He pulls in to get the mail – sorting over the trash he tosses the flyers, tucks the bills under his arm, and glances down at the last envelope. It’s handwritten. What the hell? No one writes letters anymore – maybe it’s from an old friend for his birthday. He stops. Would she have done this? It would be pretty stupid, totally bold, and incredibly reckless – so it could definitely be her. He had been her partner in crime doing some wildly inappropriate moves in the past. He knew what she was capable of when she felt spontaneous. Deep breath – don’t be a pussy, dude.

He slides the short letter out of the envelope.

—

Talk to me. Maybe you are sad or anxious or disappointed. Talk to me and it will be better.

Close your eyes. Breathe in – now let it all out. Can you feel it? My hands on your shoulders will stay here until you are ready, love. The chaos in your head and heart will work itself out once you let go.

Your words tumble out – I take it all in. You need someone to listen – I am here. No distractions, no kisses or rubs or interruptions to lighten the mood. You tell me, and I will be with you.

You have so much weighing on you – now that you have shared it I can help. More talking, but you are slowing down, wearing out. Let me rub these shoulders that I once kissed and nibbled and admired. Connect your shoulders with my hands and know that I am here.

Your face is so tight – more talking, but now let me trace your brow that I once kissed and nuzzled and stroked. Connect your face with my hands and know that I am here.

Your back is so sore – more talking, but let me spend our precious time together relaxing your muscles. I want to massage this back that I once kissed and licked and layed upon. Connect your strong back with my hands and know I am here.

Our time in this life is short. The connections we make are true – regardless of right/wrong, good timing/bad. When you need an ear, I am here.

Keep writing, even if I may never read it. Letting it out helps.

xxoo,

C

—

Damn, how does she know?

How does she know there are days he still looks around the corner, hoping she will be there.

How hearing a song can take him back, even when it comes on at the wrong time in front of the wrong people.

How he does a double-take when he sees her car, just in case this time – finally – it’s her behind the wheel.

How he accepts he may never see her again but fuck them if they think he will stop thinking of her whenever he feels like it.

How when things just get worse, he needs to hear from her for a lift that will last however long he can milk it.

Quite simple – she feels exactly the same way.

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Friday, 17 January 2020 - the afternoon“Mmmm,” purred the elfin bottom boi.“Ahhhhh,” grunted the much larger man.The effeminate sissy was riding the biracial’s man’s eight-by-six rod. The guy clawed at the punk’s tender butt cheeks with both of his large, cracked hands. He squeezed and kneaded them. His short fingernails dug into the soft yet firm flesh. He slammed his powerful thighs into the younger slut’s backside.The sounds of intense lip smacking was likely audible two doors down. “Mmhmm,”...

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