2003-10-15 @ 7:52 p.m.
adam and eve revisited

Well, I'm in the midst of my own apple offering. I don't know if its Adam making the offer or the snake, but I am definitely in the midst of a low blood sugar crisis. Here's the thing...

I haven't had a massage with Married Guy in three weeks. I've been talking about nothing but sex, sex, sex with my shrink. I've been having a lovely time with Mr. Love Me Tender, Love Me Big, and Mr. Soap (when Mr. Love is resting). I'm a hormonal mess.

I did a very bad thing over the weekend. I wrote a flirty e-mail to Married Guy. Told him I needed a massage and couldn't wait to have his warm mits all over me. (whatever the hell mits are. Hopefully that isn't a male code word for penis or something). And then yesterday, he did the bumping into me thing, and was very friendly and attentive. And when I asked him if he had any times open for a massage Thursday or Friday, he said he was doing paperwork Thursday, but he could work me in (sigh, lovey voice) "because you are so special".

(And this right in front of his wife -- the freakin' goofball. But she, as usual, was in her own world. As I was leaving she warned me about a woman on a bicycle. I was like "huh"? And then she sang the theme from "The Wizard of Oz" -- because it was extremely windy out -- and I might see the wicked witch ride by on her bicycle -- um, ok).

And then today I called for an appointment but he wasn't in yet, so I asked for one on the unavailable day, since I'm so special, and waited to hear from him.

In the meantime, I sent him another e-mail and told him he looked dashing yesterday. He actually did. He was on his way to a meeting and looked really smart. He wrote back tonight and said he thinks he'll now need to bring his dog with him to work to fend off the college girls.

(cough). OK, I wouldn't go that far, dear.

BUT...we're doing the massage tomorrow. And here's the thing...We always do it at his office, but he wants me to come out to his house. Early afternoon. As in nobody's home, and the bedroom is right next to where the massage table is, and the "I am so cute I have to fend off college girls" thing is now on the table.

I only say Oy, because I am hornier than Sex on the Beach coed right now. I'm scared of sex, but hey.

Hey, hey.

Hey, hey, hey.

Since we're out of the office are the RULES going to change? We've already been doing the flirting thing the last couple of days. Do I need to stop and buy a condom?

I only have 45 minutes between my art class and my arrival at the Garden of Eden.

Why do I suddenly feel like I'm going to the freakin' prom and that a tryst under the bleachers is in the offing?

Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty