....meanwhile a month later. Nothing new new to report. Lawyer and I haven't made time to get together. I've been inactive in the parks dept. Work has dominated my life - when I think we all know I'd rather have it sex doing that.
Well....the thought of sex still does dominate. In meetings. While on the phone. W/every fuckin man I pass in the hall. Obsessed I still am. Fear not loyal readers, I'm still a pig. I always will be. Life just got in the way.
I've been thinking lately about the complete non-verbal cruise and execution. It reminded me of a time, back in the day....
I was getting off work. My work and living places were close together and I would walk most days. In between, there was some shopping areas and busy intersection. Anyhooo....at some point before leaving the office, I caught sight of a guy. Not the complete clone look - but close. Leather jacket. Buzzed yet feathered hair (how did they do that?). Somewhat bushy moustache. 501s. It was the 80s ya know.
...and the silent cruise began. He caught my eye. I caught his. The look that pretty much says it all. You'd know it if you've experienced it. And you knew actual introductions would just ruin it. Completely.
So I walked and I noticed he followed. He didn't try to make up any distance. He stayed behind me at the same pace no matter what. At a stop light, while waiting to cross the street, he still kept his distance. I thought I'd play a bit and went into a record store (yes! records!!! THAT is how long ago). He followed. Always a row or two over from me, peering over an album cover.
I decided, let's get this over with. I left the store. He followed. I could have taken a back alley to get to the apartment quicker, but I didn't. I stopped out front, got my mail and then made the big walk down the interior hall.
I was the last apartment in said hall, and it was a good 100 feet from the main entrance. I could see him thru the door at the end of the hall as I entered. I left my door open.
In a minute I could hear footsteps down the hall. I never invited him in. That didn't stop him. He entered and shut the door. In a matter of minutes he had my pants down and me bent over my kitchenette table. Not a word was spoken. A few moans. A grunt here or there - on both our sides.
It took 30 minutes to get to this point. It took half of that to do the deed.
There was no: "what do you like?". "Is this good?" "This feels great!"
We/He did what was necessary. What was conveyed in a spit second of our eyes connecting. In retrospect there was no chance of NOT doing it. Maybe it was fate, maybe not.
No thanks were exchanged afterward. He put his used bone away, buttoned up and walked out just as he came in. Silent.
was it completely anonymous? possibly not. If he were smart he may have snagged my name off the mailbox. But I never saw or heard from him again. Just the memory of holding onto that table while he pushed in and pulled out.
...and the look. the all knowing look.