Moscow ordered for both of us in perfect French. I listened closely and gathered we were starting with a soup of some kind and then a dish with prawns and more red wine. The server returned shortly with slices of warm baguette in a bread basket. “Merci!” we both chimed enthusiastically. It seemed that Moscow liked warm bread as much as me. Well, despite his nickname, he was French!
It was an unseasonably warm spring day outside of a small café on boulevard de la Tour Maubourg in the heart of Paris, I sat taking in the sights and sounds of the city. In the distance, I could just make out the lights from the Eiffel Tower as the sun made room for nightfall. Cars rolled along and people strolled by on their way home or to an evening of magic in this city of wonder. It was shaping up to be the perfect Parisian evening.
Blink once, what to do? Right swiped for those eyes. Mind open, golden rule, you took me by surprise.
Our table sat in a dimly lit corner of a side alcove off the main dining room in an aging Italian restaurant. We were fairly isolated from the rest of the diners, just the way Sir likes it. I pressed a glass of cool prosecco to my lips and drank in the smooth sparkling wine. As I swallowed, I felt the coolness in my throat followed by a heat rising to my cheeks. I could feel his eyes on me. I returned the glass to the table and slowly raised my eyes to meet his steel-gray stare. His gaze was amiable but intense. He was studying me. I felt my lips drying up from the drink, and ran my tongue over them to bring back some moisture. I smiled, he did not.
Remember the short story I've been working on -- Passion's Curse? Well, I finished my first draft! I really agonized over the ending and finally made a decision and just wrote it, knowing I would change it in the revisions to come. Again, I didn't love how the story was ending, but I committed to the writing and the first draft is done! It feels so good to have a completed draft of my first significant creative writing project.
With me, you bloom, you laugh, we ride. At home, you pull the petals back in and hide. You kiss my mouth and bite my lips. You slap my ass and squeeze my hips. You touch, you taste, you always savor. And as you fell, you became much braver. Your life away must always come first. But when you are gone, I fear the worst. Our romance is destined to be caught in a song, In a moment of time when the music comes on. I know what you need, I’ve seen your heart through your eyes. You’ve whispered, you’ve hinted, but you’re telling more lies. Your secret, my love, is safe with me... No soul has to know that you truly crave three.
Softly you touch Your mouth to mine, Lips brushing lips Tasting thrill mixed with wine. Tongues gently play... Move in close for this kiss. Years moved through time Brought us here to this bliss.
At that very moment, your hand finds the softest warmth on the inside of my thighs. As told, I’m not wearing panties —rules for whenever we meet. I like pleasing you. Holding my breath, I anxiously wait to see if you’ll check my obedience. You do. And I exhale into your touch.
When you discard me, be sure to close the lid on the bin. Walk away. Don’t look back to reach in... I’ve already moved on. This side of the road, I’ve been discarded here before... I know my way home by heart. They call it muscle memory. And my heart always remembers. She never forgets.
I'm not sure exactly what I'm writing about today, but I knew I wanted the title of my post to be "foolish mistake." That is what I was recently told I was making by not clearing room in my life to date this guy.