When I deal with difficult things, I compartmentalise. I have these little drawers in my head, it is something like an enormous storage vault in there, with endless sets of these drawers, like an old library room, with shelves and ladders, all dark and musty, and I shove things like the pain from my break up in one of them way down the back, close it, and skirt around it for a while.
This compartmentalising … Continue Reading
“I’m not going to look back, ok?”
I pull him a little closer, leaning into him, “Ok baby.”
“I can’t.”
I nod, “It’s ok, I understand.”
More kissing, a desperate clinging, touching, petting, a terrible reluctance.
“Who do you belong to, baby?”
“I belong to you, Ma’am,” he whispers in my ear.
I nod again, kisses, an inhalation of final tenderness, and underneath a yawning emptiness, a rising bitterness in my mouth already.
I finally … Continue Reading
He is washing her, kneeling before her, warm water cascading over their bodies, his hands gliding over her soapy skin. She reaches down for a kiss, he opens his mouth to her and she tastes him in the wetness, it makes her sigh with pleasure.
He whispers something to her that she doesn’t quite hear… He is embarrassed, shy, unable to look at her. She makes him repeat it.
“Can I… put my tongue inside … Continue Reading
The email is profoundly depressing, but it’s right. I wanted yearning and regret, I wanted tender words of lost love, I wanted support and hand holding, I wanted impossible things, I wanted all that. All that. And then more.
I asked him to write me something sweet to hang onto when we spoke last, but he hasn’t. I know he is writing for me a million words, he is writing for me for weeks and … Continue Reading
He was shocked and bewildered and lost. Our play had hit something at the core of him and he looked stricken, chest heaving, face screwed up, on the edge of tears. I cradled him, rocking him gently, kissing, crooning to him.
“It’s ok baby, it’s ok,” I stroked his face.
He looked up at me, a little boy, scared and bewildered.
“Please hurt me…” he asked in a small voice, “please…?”
I understood at once … Continue Reading
I had a dream last night, I don’t often remember dreams.
My boy was in it. Someone had beaten him with copper wire, I wanted to see it. I made him take his shirt off to show me, his pale upper back criss-crossed with cuts and marks. I look at it, it makes my stomach lurch with lust. I grab his injured flesh, closing my fist on it, digging my nails into the torn skin, … Continue Reading
Later, we watch a movie, puppy is allowed on the bed, snuggled beside me.
I make some comment about what’s on screen to him, he answers me, laughing. It takes us both a few seconds to realise that he has spoken.
I raise my eyebrows at him. Comically, his wrapped paws fly to cover his mouth, his eyes widen, a look of shock and horror frozen on his face.
“Can puppies talk?!” I demand.
He … Continue Reading