When I entered her house, I just had to enter through the back door. Call it cliche, but when I’m getting ready for some backdoor knockin’ I like to let the neighbors know. Continue Reading
I smelled her perfume before I even saw her.
We were meeting for lunch. But I wasn’t planning on eating any food. Just her.
I like to make this joke that when pride month comes along in New York: The weather isn’t the only thing getting hot and wet. The only thing is, I’m not normally the one getting hot or, incidentally wet. That is, not until this Pride.
You know that feeling when you’re in a new relationship, and you just can’t wait to get home so you can ravage your beloved?
When you’re driving and you feel your hands clam up, the hairs on your arm stand erect, and you get so wet you’re afraid that you might ruin your new upholstery?
Well that’s how I feel…coming home to me.
It all started a few weeks ago when I decided to treat myself. I had just gone through a breakup with a guy who couldn’t or wouldn’t get me off and I thought, enough is enough. If he’s not going to do it, then I’m going to get it done. I’ve always been resourceful like that.
When I showed up at the address Maggie had given me, I could barely believe my eyes. Ahead of me in the freezing river was a boat, billowing steam and filled to the brim with naked, sweating, women.
I didn’t realize that heaven existed on earth, but it seemed that my chance encounter with Maggie was teaching me that it does. You just need to know where to look.