Thursday’s Man


Thursday’s man is made of planful decadence.

He’s busy but has his lover on his daily schedule.

He’s from out of town, travels well, packs light; in his leather satchel the bare minimum, all quality.

When he arrives his long coat flaps behind him down the hallway, his shoes hit heel first on the tiles muffled only by the cuff of his jeans slouching over the worn leather to the floor.  With casual grace, his hand reaches back to take hers. But she’s not his companion this trip. He’s accompanied instead by spreadsheets and laptops and morning meetings with clients who know what solutions he’s bringing to the table.

He uses the key, settles in, throws the duvet back and closes the drapes. He unclasps and slides the heavy metal over his left wrist and leaves his Rolex sitting on its side on the nightstand.

The late news is tuned in. He untucks his starched blue dress shirt and makes his way, piece by piece, button by button down his person. Pulling, unzipping, shedding the fibres of his deal-making day from his body until he is once again his own man, standing as his natural self, his body just a mans, his priorities of his own choosing- for a few more hours.

His desires are of his own design.

He works late hours and endless leads, pulls his weight and makes things happen most can’t or wont.

He’ll retire early, has the second place in Chicago, his city, and over the years has smoothed the rough edges on mistakes he made in the past, prays with gratitude for his tomorrows and makes peace with those he once let go.

The rest- the fantasy brought to life, the powerful raw of his need for connection with a wild adventurous heart- is of his own making.

He has her.

He is enthralled with her devotion to letting his imagination fuel each rendezvous.  He believes finding her is fate, believes her muscled thigh was created for his hand to caress, her mind his to unfurl and open and expose to his raging heart.

He has meticulously cultivated her want for him over tumultuous liaisons during conferences and business travel. Her intense missing of his cologne, his touch on the low of her back, his way with words feeds her mind via electronic devices they rely upon for connection. He locks in her greed for his mouth with brief interludes via skype, in passionate kisses at airports and then culminates the long lapses in union with loving on her as he moves his hips with hers in draped fourposter beds rented on holiday.

His tender attention to her most vulnerable flaws is endearing. He secures her desire with his unwavering assurances, telling her he can handle her giving him, in equal measure, the kind of love he offers her in the moments they are together.

She is free to feel and let herself fall into his arms with no threat of promises to be collected in the daylight. He asks only for what she can share in that moment.

He whispers her name and her beautiful face finds him behind his heavy eyelids.

He leans back into the pillows, imagines a day when the schedules permit him to wake her in the night, maybe twice.


His body was just a mans, made the same as all the others more or less, until he called out her name in shuddering syllables and put his hand to her jaw, turning her face so she had to look into his eyes as he found her deepest sweetness and then she let herself helplessly transform into his woman.

#for Reticent Mental Property

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