Sultry

Part Two

As it turned out, my sultry suitor had an important business meeting locally and was flying south in a matter of days, so of course we planned a meeting of our own.

This is where the tale starts to get knotty (typing slowly now so I can keep up). I was in fact theoretically dating a feisty Italian at the time (who will justly receive her own dressing down later, thus extricating me from the crimes I was fantasising about committing). Also, with the recent addition of a new stalker-pseudo-ex to my fan folio, the value of my dating credibility was steadily diminishing (for the risk-averse types). Having freshly undertaken Juggling 101 class in an open relation with yet another ex, I was up for a test and way overdue for that seaside sabbatical.

24 hours before Sultry and I were to meet, I received (oddly) another Pink Sofa private message from within the same municipality! Having NEVER chatted with anyone from this region, the odds of meeting two lesbians from there were next to impossible.

I knew I was interesting but this made me special too.

To Be Continued...

Sultry

Part One

It was a dripping summer afternoon like most others in the mid-tropics where I was stationed. Melting over my kitchen counter after a mammoth bike ride and posting obnoxiously online, I discerned a Pink Sofa private message notification appear in my email. Intrigued, I logged in immediately to retrieve a curious message. I checked out the sender’s profile and learned she was an athlete obtainable 2500km inconveniently north of my keyboard.

Picture a setting where mountains gracefully enter the ocean via vast carpeted beaches. My mind puzzled merrily about the brochures I had seen showing the mystical way vapours collected around mountains, resembling puffs of disorganised fumes waiting to be inhaled.

Special Note:

These days I question the historical chemical imbalance of my personality composition such that when I received an interesting Pink Sofa message from a sultry athlete type, my mind instantly commenced accessing geographical coordinates and conducting feasibility studies and probability ratios of a successful partnership opportunity. Cringe.

So this breathtaking place where woman-eating reptiles and poisonous floaty jelly creatures roamed the waterways also produced lesbians? It made sense.

I kept my response concise and fairly abrupt to illustrate my lack of interest. She was subconsciously looking for someone wild, free and hard to hold down. She needed a challenge, I needed a holiday.

To Be Continued..

A Date With The Incomparable Ms. Z. Drew

Part Six

Busy lives make for interesting individuals.  They ensure that you can never take an experience for granted.  Or a person.  Things just move too quickly, there’s always another demand upon your time – something to be achieved, something new to learn.  And my rate of learning had just begun the steepest climb of my adult life.  Your fault, Zy.

The exam period had commenced, a time of year that would ordinarily find me holed up with a single, dedicated study companion.  Romantic explorations, superficial or otherwise, had never been permitted.  Ever.  Until now.

I lived on the opposite side of town to the captivating Ms. Drew, which meant any kind of catch up detracted from my primary focus of study.  And yet, I found the time.  The more of each other’s company that we shared, the more we found that gelled – a common focus on nutrition and fitness; effective uses of time and energy; the inexorable pursuit of authenticity through total freedom, truth and autonomy.  These things filled me with a renewed passion and drive for living and my cells beat my mind to the knowledge that I loved her by weeks.

I rose to a ‘good morning and good luck’ text message at dawn on the day of my most intense exam.  Preparing myself calmly for entering the world, I left early, locked the door and slipped into the waiting day.  Aware of my tendency to get over-excited by imminent performance requirements, I left myself plenty of time to get lost, stuck in traffic or navigate my way around unexpected UFO landings.  I also trusted myself to drive intuitively that day and, without thinking about it, found myself on a lesser-used road to the exam venue, lined with trees, smart houses and a substantial bike path. 

I wasn’t consciously watching for cyclists, I don’t even think Zy was in the forefront of my mind at that moment, but when I saw the lycra-clad athlete straining ahead of me I realised that this was the first cyclist I had seen that morning.  Strange, considering how long I had been on the road already.  I passed at a decent speed, allowing a respectful amount of room, whilst my over-full brain quietly absorbed the colour of the bike and helmet, the shape of the body then, finally, the tilt of the mouth as the cyclist’s face writhed with the effort of pushing ever harder... 

‘No.’  I actually said it out loud.  ‘It can’t be.’

To Be Continued...

Hot Stuff Day Two

By day 2 I could no longer resist from noticing a particular female human. The initial spotting of Hot Stuff was during my shift in the dish pit. The dish pit was an elevated trough where, during the course of the festival, thousands of lentil-caked apparatus were individually soaked, scrubbed, sanitised and swabbed. It was noteworthy that the dish pit was tactically positioned along the outdoor showers trail. Us poor dish pigs were regularly exposed to the never-ending meanderings of naked women as they made their way to and from the open-air bathing district. It was just implausible.

Working a double shift ensured I was given a daily dose of breasts, which was soothing in a remedial way.

On this particular second morning in the dish pit, I became quite lucid. Just as I was finishing off the final buff on a rather outsized soup ladle, a mortal of a most pleasing divinity happened to saunter down the path toward the breakfast pavilion. I tried to smother a Ren and Stimpy goggle-eyed tongue plunge, as I was concerned that my drooling might carve a new unnecessary watercourse. But it was useless. She was goddess-like. And I was ruined for eternity. The most suitable cliché would be that I was ‘struck by lightning’. And from that moment on every cell in my body was on a constant ‘high-alert’ in case she was nearby.

To Be Continued..