Tonight is the last night I'll be spending at my friend's house. I got a little melancholy last night. But just a bit.
Keith sent me a lovely instant message. Wonderfully, tragically romantic. Don't ever let him tell you he can't write. Or that he's not a romantic. He's both.
I got to thinking about my desire to have a local stud to whose services I could call on as needed. What a delight it would be to watch a house and have the freedom to have my lover come eat dinner with me or... of me. Someone to relax and snuggle with away from home. To play house, knowing it would only last a few delicious days before life we both returned to normal life again.
Can you imagine if I had posted that kind of invitation on Craig's list? Can you imagine the types of responses I'd get?
But of course, the entire time I was imagining Keith draped across the couch in his white t-shirt. Waiting impatiently for me to finish watering the plants or whatever chore I needed to do before I could spend the rest of the evening wrapped in his arms, tasting his skin....
