…to meet me in a bookstore.
I am amazed and impressed that I am able to hold it together right now. Sitting here surrounded by all these words, all these poets, all these books…anticipating the arrival of somebody new. A new mystery to unravel. A new story to write. A new chapter to read. Anticipation, desire, words, poetry, fantasy, philosophy, history, spirituality, death. Sitting right in the middle of it all. Getting so unbelievably turned on…watching people reading and looking at books. So curious about what is moving them, what they are seeking, what brought them here. Like my favorite bumper sticker proclaims…reading is indeed really fucking sexy! Curiosity is sexy. Good Lord. I feel like I could melt all over the place. I cannot stop pulling each and every person in here into my bookstore fuck fantasies. So turned on.
Wow…Les Miserables is a seriously big book. Probably much better than the movie.
Oh Christ…guys in glasses. That just does it for me.
Okay…so…tons of books, guys in glasses, the intoxicating scent of coffee teasing my nose, deliciously silky thigh-high stockings caressing my legs beneath my jeans, delectable waves of pleasure coursing thru my mind and thru my body…I seriously feel like I might explode at any second…
And yet I sit here perfectly still, writing in my little journal, passion and desire carefully concealed, looking all prim and proper, patiently waiting for this man. He should be here any minute. Meeting me in the poetry section. I think I am already in love.
God…I am so fucking easy.