Chaser

It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday. The little place in the country, the one still standing despite years of bands and hardwood dance floor abuse from men dancing with men, twirling actually with drunk men, completely heterosexual mind you, but just wildly letting themselves feel the base and spin at the same pace as the brain after a few hours of brandy old fashioneds downed between sets.

There’s a steady stream of locals and newbies, and very little reinvestment into the place as evidenced by the one stall bathroom and the lack of a decent top rail scotch. Still, it’s a good place for dancing and a great place for not having to talk due to the volume and a spot with a $5 cover is frankly, hard as fuck to come by these days.

Linda, she’s a blonde with a history that she can’t defend but recognizes that she’s not perfect either and she brings along the latest add to her crowd. She loves to dress up, has on a spaghetti strapped sequined black top and her best elastic fabric white jeans and at my request, strappy sandals that just barely emerged from the car before removing the toe spacers they supply at the local nail salon. She is so grateful she noticed and pulled the from her toes before she walked up to pay her $5 cover.

I’m behind Linda. I’ve got a grey leather jacket without a wallet. i need to exit and return with my id and my cash. I do so. I pay my way in, walk to the bar and order a blueberry vodka press for my friend and a corona with lime for myself.  $14 later plus a goddamn tip and I’m across the room waiting for a chance to dance.

Linda is the dancing kind. She knows the words. She knows the breaks and when to stop dancing. She knows the songs, and has a reference due to her good friend’s escapades in the past, she knows he will stop being a coherent fun tag-along, she knows she’ll have to babysit the drunken fucktard until she acknowledges she does dance, does it well, and does not need to make anyone happy.

Yes. She has to buy her own drinks. But it is worth it. No putting out for guilt. Instead, she puts out that she is turned on and capable of bringing the same. 

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# for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web.

 

Alive and Kicking

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What makes a perfect daydream?

What is your greatest accomplishment?

What is your happiest memory?

Where do you long to go?

Apparently all are questions to discuss when you meet someone; apply liberally in the first hour…as each gets to the core values.

Conclusion: we don’t fall in love with the person so much as how we feel when we are with that person.

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Late night radio.  Would rather be out slow dancing.  JS.

#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the mind.

 

 

Hear me

Latin american man and woman dancing

Music guides me this morning…

makes me feel like dancing hip to hip with someone across a highly polished floor under chandeliers, toward a very large bed with someone waiting on it, watching me, reaching out to us…

Hope your day is leading you in positive directions with the sunshine finding your shoulders and making you sway to the sounds of the world others fail to hear.

 

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There were times when she danced well with three. Such alive, alert, responsive movement. 

#for Reticent Mental Property with photo credit to the web and a subtle nod to M and R.

Dance Partner

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You must be feeling better, Dear.

Yes. Yes I am. I’m not yet tango material, but a close,  slow dance, the length of my body pressing to yours…yes.

That sounds wonderful.  Would this be vertical or horizontal dancing?

With me it always seems to start out vertical, with the most honorable intentions…

And then?

And then I end up back to the wall,and my knees fail me

as your hands hold me in place

and pull me to you

and your lips graze my ear to whisper how you’d like to have your way with me

while my heaving chest, rises and falls, in exaggerated fashion,

assisting my breasts in finding your heart

and encouraging your chin to nuzzle forward into the triangle at the base of my throat

and your lips to burn a path from neck to the hollow below my ear and

then

lightly skim across my cheek

and the tip of my nose

and the curve of my closed eyelids and

back down to my waiting mouth

where we kiss and inhale each other

taking the taste of authenticity deep into our lungs

to remind ourselves

how.

to.

live.

That is spectacular,  Dear.  Just perfect.  I’ll lead now.

If she had any regrets at all:  Failure in perfecting the dip.   

#for ReticentMentalProperty

Never Stop Dancing

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I am strong,  so much  stronger than I have ever been.

Here, I am able to reach out, dance with my words and break out of conscripted roles as I adjust the promises made when perspective was missing.

When time is not on my side, when it lies to me and leaves my truth bare and needs naked, this is when I shove the clock off the cliff.  I shall never be without music again.

There’s learning to be had- no, to be taken– every time that gorgeous sun rises, burns off the shadows of complacency and brilliantly tames all of the yesterdays.

There is always enough time to breathe when one inhales the scent and seduction of living authentically.  

There is always enough time to taste the skin of acceptance when one lives on her lover’s schedule.

#for ReticentMentalProperty