Friday, July 25, 2008

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

I’m disturbed. Somewhat. But not really.

Last night I had what some would define as a saucy dream about a blog friend. "Saucy” if your definition includes toe sucking.

And he started it.

We find ourselves outdoors in the midst of a celebratory group, perhaps a company picnic or event where large groups of people who know each other a little but not really gather. We’re dressed all in white, he in pleated slacks and a pullover, me in a short swingy skirt, legs bare. I may have been wearing those awful Ked sneakers that aren’t really sneakers, just a thin coating of rubber supporting the instep, all eyelets and white laces. Maybe we’re golfing or playing a game of tennis, although I don’t recall balls of that sort in my palm (thank you…I’ll be here all week). I sit in what looks like a large white box or cube, set on its side like a play hut. In the midst of jovial play and thinking we're out of sight, he kneels in front of the box and kisses my exposed thigh, moves downward to shin then ankle and (in one deft motion) grabs a Ked edge in meaty hand, pops it off and peels away an anklet sock.

Toe sucking, although playful, is pure sex. It’s the act of taking flesh in mouth, forming the letter “O” with lips, pulling at warm skin and hard bone. I'm first to realize a crowd has materialized and gathered and we're encircled. Some roar in encouragement, most recoil in surprise and moral judgment. He stops, much to the relief of dream me; I don't want to expose my thoughts of him this way, like a grade-school crush revealed to teases and taunts.

The scene shifts and we’re alone, sitting side-by-side on the bumpy metal service of a playground merry-go-round, red paint chipped metal bars emerging from the center, bending down and inward like spider legs. Trapped in a web. He encircles my shoulder with his arm, leans in and whispers, “It’s just what you do to me.”

Was it the Anais Nin before bed, third glass of chardonnay or three months playing solo? Whatever the cause, Mr. Sandman, bring me, please, please bring me a dream. I'll even wear the Keds.

4 comments:

Miz UV said...

I bet it was Don, wasn't it?

JodieKash said...

Not a girl to dream and tell, but…for all his devilish charm, boyish good looks and talent for tickling with words (and words get me hot), no. Hmmm...maybe tonight.

O' Tim said...

Hmm... a cast of thousands, as Ray Romano once put it.

Don said...

no

Shoulda started with that pinky toe.

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