Thoughts of a night that hasnít happened yet.


I will go out to bars and wear sequined halter tops. I will flat iron my extremely long flaxen hair and wear shoes that make me a few more inches of sexy. I will order drinks that say sophisticated yet willing, like a double Grey Goose vodka martini, dry. I will purposefully apply crimson red lipstick while sitting in a quiet yet provocatively lit area, shrouded in seductive mystery. I will cross and uncross my bare legs ever so smoothly. I will make eye contact that is neither too long nor too short.

You will want me.

Your friends will want me.

You and your friends will goat eachother into talking to me.

You will all be too afraid.

I will end up talking to a much older man who is not afraid of a "good lookin' lady" but...

I do not want an older man. I do not care what you do for a living. I don't want to see pictures of your children and oh yes, how delightfully tactful, your ex-wife.

I want young hard bodied baby faced country boys. I want you to move fast. To be rough and persistent. An earnest boy who finishes quickly but offers hours of humbled compensation later.

I will not carry a pen in my purse. I do not want to spend the night.

I want to walk out of your bedroom, bra in my pocket, relaxed, a little sore with just a hint of your name on my lips.


I am horny, post this. Not the part about me being horny. Just the rest.