Scarlett

When his leg starts shaking under the table, all I can think of is not again, not again, and he looks up from his cell phone and says it:

"My girlfriend...she hates you."

I'd like to tell his girlfriend that when her boyfriend touches my ass, it doesn't make her less attractive.  It's her emotional bitchiness and guilt trips that cause him to ignore her calls, and her clever conquests of insatiable sexcapades that cause him to forget how to communicate with her on a verbal level.  I should know.  I am queen of talking with my body.

"I have to tell her that I'm having drinks with my mom right now because she doesn't want me seeing you. And if she found out I was at your apartment earlier..."  He doesn't finish his sentence. Just continues to move his leg up and down, and when I point out this nervous dance he says, "It's my dad's gift to me."

My mind wanders to a time last week when I spent an afternoon with another male friend playing pool and eating lunch.  By the time we got to dessert we were asking to see each other's underwear.  Actually, I asked him to show me his.  It was a whole "I'll show you mine if you show me yours first" kind of deal.  I don't give that stuff away for free.  I proceeded to describe the make and feel of my panties until he couldn't sit still, and was impulsively murmuring questions, which I couldn't really hear because my ego was cackling hysterically.  I heard something about "curvature" and "sexy," and as I idly touched his pant leg, he inadvertently proclaimed he could no longer go to class in five minutes.  Guess how I knew.

"It doesn't matter if you have one boyfriend or ten."  I blink and look up.  My friend is still talking, looking at me as though he expects more of a reaction.  His phone buzzes with another text message.  That's five in the last five minutes.  I ask if he thinks that's excessive.  He shrugs and says, "It's not like she's calling me."  

I sip my raspberry ice tea and marvel at the irony of it all.  If his girlfriend only knew that the woman who has the greatest chance of making her boyfriend leave her is herself, she wouldn't hate me so much.  

"She likes it when we're in bed and I mutter to her in a foreign language," he says to me.  I tell him, "Of course she does."

Then I look down at my cell phone sitting in my purse.  I wonder what my boyfriend is doing.


3.09.07

Trust me.

judging by the way you look at me
I assume there would be daggers in her eyes
if she could feel the heat
we were swimming in together.
like a never ending highway
the lights flickered across your face
leaving your body in shadow
(sometimes the darkest places are the warmest.)
opportunity
     lit this fire
          and you
               made me an arsonist.
You have the talent of making me realize
I'm not better than this
but I'm so damn good
at playing with your darkness.
Your scent is a sin
so how can I not breathe you in
when you taste as good as you feel
all this seat needs to do
is fall back
so your warmth melts into mine
and I can judge
the sincerity in your hands
when we play.


11.11.06

You Don't Know the Whole Story

The night before last
I shook your hand.
as the introductions were made
your name didn't ring a bell
then tonight I see you again
at his performance
you get to meet his parents
           a trophy,
holding an iced coffee
your long blonde hair
falling down your back
touching your shiny belt.
his hand on your ass
his arm around your waist
you never knew
     that last friday
     I saw him naked.


6.22.06